


Charlie

by blythechild



Category: V for Vendetta (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, F/M, Future Fic, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:24:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 34
Words: 125,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blythechild/pseuds/blythechild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10 years after the 5th, Evey is still coming to terms with V's death. Now working as a policy advisor in the new government, forces from her revolutionary past conspire against her and the delicate new England that she is trying to build. With the help of her downstairs neighbor, Charlie, Evey attempts to overcome her past, her current danger, and create a future.</p><p>Warnings apply to the entire story - I'm not going to warn for individual chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Chauffeur

**Author's Note:**

> This started it's life as a one-shot drabble, but fans wanted another chapter... and another... and another... until it turned into a small novel. It contains all sorts of adult stuff: mature themes, language, violence, death, and graphic sexual content. It should not be read by minors.
> 
> This is fanfiction and as such I do not claim ownership over the characters herein. It was created as a personal entertainment.

The cooling solitude of the Gallery enveloped Evey. She sat in the darkness and concentrated fervently on nothing at all. Her pulse had slowed to a hypnotic beat within her, and now, with each pendulant pulse, the darkness appeared to throb in sympathy as if she were a secret engine that powered this small universe. The Gallery was truly a sanctuary for her, though she usually preferred it lit and musical; this time she chose to experience it at its most basic. It had an almost nascent quality to it: like the unconscious comfort that entering a nursery brings to someone who has long since outgrown it. In many ways, this wasn’t far from the truth to Evey’s mind: she had been reborn here, and though the birth and growing process had been awkward, she nevertheless felt that this place above all others was home. The only thing that disrupted her enjoyment of this place was V.

V’s character was too complex for a simplistic childlike qualification. He wasn’t a father, or a teacher, or a guardian, or a companion, or a captor, or a liar, or a killer – he was all of them. It ruined the memory of the place for her. She was inwardly happy that he wasn’t present here anymore, and at the same time she felt the stab of guilt at this thought followed closely by the overwhelming feeling of profound loss. Her heart fluttered and her pulse increased as she began to be swamped by emotions that she kept tightly in check: sorrow, anger, grief, but above all, love. She dove deeper into herself in hopes of swimming under the emotional turbulence rising within her and resurfacing in the calm pool of memory once more. It was like this every single time, and the span between the serenity and the reality grew shorter each time that she came here. She wondered why she persisted in indulging in the fantasy when it was so clearly fragile.

Because, she told herself, it’s the only time that you are ever happy.

She shook her head slowly to clear her mind; everything here was at half speed isolating her further from reality. She liked the feeling even if it was frustrating in the moments to come. A door behind her opened emitting migraine-inducing light into the cavernous Gallery. He stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the light, tall and sure, as he always seemed to her. 

“Evey?”

“Yes, V. I’m here.” She said it exactly as she had a thousand times before and turned to face him.

“I have something for you, Eve. The only gift that I can give you….”

“V, don’t!” she tried to stop him but here time always sped up and carried her like the crest of a wave breaking across his inevitable action.

V removed his mask and cradled it against his chest. She never saw his face. Fissures and cracks of white-hot light criss-crossed his body increasing in intensity until he was brighter than the light behind him. The smell of singed hair and burning flesh seared her nostrils as she felt her own skin begin to blister and peel away from the heat. A roar of oxygen-hungry fire burst from his chest just as he exploded into splinters and hot ash. The fire rolled towards with exquisite fury slowing before her long enough to speak.

“For you, Evey…” 

It wasn’t his voice; it wasn’t even human. It was the combination of the voice that you love the most and the voice of the creature that utters the first words to you after your death: it was the voice of finality. The fire blew through her then separating flesh and muscle from bone, and reducing bone to ash after that. It all happened in an instant.

“Goddamn you, V!” was her final thought.

\-------------------------------

 

Evey woke with a startled meep in the backseat of the office town car spilling the paperwork laid across her to her feet. Sleep dulled her senses for a moment until she regained her bearings and saw that they were parked in front of her apartment. She caught Charlie’s worried stare at her in the rearview mirror.

“You had that dream again, didn’t you?” he stated plainly.

“It’s fine, Charlie. Please, let’s not get into it again – I know how you feel about this.” She shook her head and crouched forward to claim her paperwork. “It’s just stress. I always have the dream when I’m overdoing it. Once the by-election is over it’ll go away.”

“I don’t think that’s the reason why you’re dreaming, Eve.” Charlie turned in the driver’s seat to face her. He was a remarkably ugly man even by St. Mary’s victims’ standards. Every visible part of him was covered in twisted and gnarled scars that altered his physical features into garish caricatures of human emotion. He had no hair at all but wore a wig for a semblance of normality, and his eyes had a preternatural gloss to them that made them appear almost silver. When she first met him, Evey assumed that he had been blinded, until she found out that he drove a cab for a living. Most others assumed that Eve Hammond’s driver was some kind of werewolf, and Charlie seemed happy not to disabuse them of the notion.

“People don’t have the same nightmare for 10 years, you know. Something’s wrong, and instead of trying to ascertain what you are trying to tell yourself, you continue to shrug it off as a by-product of too much work.” Charlie grumbled. “And speaking of work, Minister Finch expects too much of you. He should value your efforts more. I’d love your permission to go “speak” to him about it…” He turned back to face the front of the car while keeping his eyes on her in the mirror.

Evey suppressed a smile: she loved Charlie a great deal. She even found him attractive, although she couldn’t say what it was about him that turned her on. Most could barely stifle their horror at his appearance, but she found his lack of concern for his visage and his disarming physical grace compelling. And nobody messed with him. Aside from his tortured looks, he was tall and solidly built. He also had an air of dangerous entitlement about him that dared anyone to refuse him and deal with the consequences. Most never took him up on the offer. All in all, when Eric Finch was elected Minister of the Interior four years ago and Evey, as his right hand, was swept into the public eye, her charming if overprotective downstairs neighbor seemed the ideal choice as her driver/security/assistant. Aside from Eric, he was her closest companion and was the only other person that she had ever told about V. When he moved into the flat below hers five years ago – exactly five years after the explosion of Parliament – it signaled the end of Evey’s solitude and the beginning of her re-emergence into life, although, according to Charlie, she would have to do a fair sight more before he considered her life to be “fully realized”.

“Leave Eric be, Charlie. He’s just as stressed out as I am. He never asks anyone in his office to take on any more than he is willing to do himself. The circus that surrounds the process of responsible government is daunting and something that neither one of us was fully prepared for. Makes you wish for the good old days of secret terrorism and dramatic explosions – at least you knew whom you were fighting against then.” Evey sighed and hauled her files into her arms. Before she could reach for the door handle Charlie was outside the car opening the door for her. “Thanks, Charlie.”

She made it halfway up the front steps before she started dropping file folders again. Charlie scooped them from mid-air and tucked them under his arm before relieving her of most of the files that she still held.

“Oh, thank you, Charlie! I’m a basket case this evening. What would I do without you?” she said while smiling and unlocking her apartment door.

“Without me, all sense of justice and order would come to a grinding, glorious halt, Miss Hammond.” he said bowing dramatically and flashing one of those snarled grins that only she loved.

“No doubt.” she giggled as she beckoned him inside. “Would you like a cuppa?”

“At this hour? It’s no wonder that you have trouble sleeping, my dear.”

“Fine.” she rolled her eyes dramatically “I’ll make it herbal, just for you.”

“Deal.” He grinned as he placed the considerable stack of files on the kitchen table and looked at it suspiciously as the table make a cracking noise. “I don’t think that you brought enough work home with you, Eve. Perhaps you’ll need the caffeine after all.”

The sarcastic remark caused Evey to glare at him and she saw him setting about the making of tea with an intimate familiarity of her kitchen. It was not unusual; they were both in and out of each other’s flats frequently and spent several nights a week together cooking, watching movies or hashing out the day’s events. It suddenly struck her that this set up was eerily like a marriage without the intimate physicality: it was very much like her life in the Gallery. She felt a chill shiver down her spine. Perhaps sensing the charge in the air, Charlie began speaking without turning to look at her. 

“It’s time to address it.”

“Address what?” she stammered.

“Your dream.” He turned and stared through her. “You’ll never get past it if you don’t understand it. I know what it means, Eve.”

“You do?”

“So do you, if you care to examine it. So few people bother to search beneath the surface of things – they are afraid. Are you afraid, Eve?”

The shiver became an icy trill that started to prickle the back of her neck. Her palms started to sweat and she felt her mouth go dry. Damn right, she was afraid.

“I’m not afraid of a dream, Charlie.”

“It’s not the dream that you fear, but what it stands for.” His eyes never leaving hers, he walked through the kitchen and set a cup of tea before her. “Some schools of psychological thought believe that escapism is an unconscious attempt to go back to the womb, but it’s more likely that such attempts, like your dream, are yearnings for simpler times – before your innocence was lost.”

He raised an eyebrow while stirring his tea. He allowed a long silence to follow but when Evey didn’t speak, he began again.

“The Gallery, in the dream, is your innocence, your security, your childlike self. But it is dark because that age has passed. You cannot maintain its comfort because it is no longer a living, real thing to you. You grew up, Eve – we all have to.” Charlie sipped his tea and cocked his head slightly before continuing.

“As for V…”

“Charlie, don’t.” It was almost a whisper.

“As for V,” he began again more gently “You resent his presence in the Gallery because it was he who both gave and destroyed your innocence. All of the reasons that you cared for him are simultaneously all of the reasons for which you now resent him. Everything that you have now: freedoms, strength, courage, a hand in the making of this country’s future are gifts that he gave to you. But then he left you, and now you feel these gifts are burdens.”

“No I don’t! I’m continuing where he left off – this country wasn’t going to be magically made right by the actions of the 5th! Someone had to make it work, and I am doing that. Eric and I are doing that!” Evey started to shake. She wanted to yell, but yelling at Charlie would have been pointless: he was calmer than a Buddhist monk, and he wasn’t whom she was angry at.

“And don’t you hate V for dying and leaving all of that responsibility on you?”

“No!”

“Haven’t you felt terribly alone since he chose death and his vendetta over life and you?”

“No!”

“Really?” Charlie’s tone was calm as he took another sip of his tea. “Well then, explain why you allow every waking moment to be consumed by work, why you have no friends save Eric Finch and me, and why, in ten years, you have never once had a romantic relationship?”

“I…I…” Evey stuttered on the verge of tears. “Why are you doing this!”

Charlie abandoned his tea and grabbed Evey by the shoulders staring at her unrelentingly.

“Because he wouldn’t want this for you! Can’t you see that he gave you everything that you would ever need to live a beautiful life and instead you chose to mourn him and a past that limits your potential.” His grip was hurting her but she was hypnotized by his eyes. “Shed your resentment and start living your life, Eve – that’s the meaning of the fire that consumes you in your dream.”

“But everything I’ve done….its all been for him.” She let her head droop; she didn’t want him to see her tears. “If I let it go – if I let him go – what do I have left? Who am I, Charlie?”

He released her shoulders and wrapped his arms around her pulling her head into his chest.

“Do it for yourself. Or do not. Once you start living for yourself, your prior motives won’t matter. His importance, his work will remain – no one can change that now – but it will no longer be a burden to you. You will find yourself, in time.” 

He stroked her hair gently; so gently for such a large man. She felt his heartbeat, slow and steady, where she rested against him- so much like hers in her dream. Her body felt like lead and her legs could barely stand under her. All she wanted was to sleep. As if she had spoken aloud, Charlie effortlessly scooped her up and deposited her on the couch. He folded himself in next to her and sat silently until her breathing became soft and regular, and he knew that she was sleeping. He remained and stroked her hair for some time. Finally he rose, arranged a blanket around her, and softly kissed her face.

“I’m so sorry, my Evey.” he whispered “I did not know that it would be like this.”

Quietly crossing the room he turned out the lights and opened the door. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the hallway light, he looked at her once more before closing the door and returning to his flat downstairs.


	2. Permanence

Charlie sat in the dark thinking. In the old days, he would have been brooding – suggesting that he had a plan and that something was hindering its success. But these days he no longer had a plan. So, he was merely thinking about how to solve his current problems as the man that he had become instead of the man that he once was. Being Charlie was an exercise in conflict resolution, both internally and externally. Since Charlie had only sprung into being about five years ago, he was still working out the kinks a bit. Charlie was a good friend. Charlie was a helper. Charlie was most certainly not a terrorist and he was not a dashing figure. That had been V, but V was dead; only Charlie remained. Or did he?

This was the dilemma that kept Charlie thinking in the dark. Charlie had _impulses_ : desires hardwired into his system from a doppelganger who now only lived in memory. Was the man truly dead if his instincts lived on in another form? This evening with Evey had disturbed him greatly. Though he was pleased that he had managed to reach her about the half-life that she had sentenced herself to, he felt that his continued presence in her life would hinder any further progress that she could make from this point. He loved sharing his life with her, he loved working with her; basically, he just loved her. But she would never love him because V always stood between them. And he wasn’t V. He was enabling her to persist in her delusion of progress by aiding in her work and filling the void of another man that she couldn’t live without. She needed to be dumped on her ass; forced to make her way on her own. He had interfered with that five years ago and the miserable results spoke for themselves. Neither of them was happy. But how could he stay away? Could he stand aside and perhaps make room for another man to sweep into her life? Would viewing her life from a distance be enough to sustain him the rest of his days?

Charlie growled at himself as he shook his head and gripped the chair handles more tightly than before. The conundrum, the endless questions, and his wavering sense of purpose were splitting his head into pieces. He felt a massive migraine coming on. His headaches had been getting steadily worse over the years, but often his damnable lack of focus pushed them over the edge. His drug regime no longer worked and he feared that this was a sign of much greater trouble in the near future. Perhaps his remarkably improbable life was about to come to an end, thus making any internal debate about Evey or his role in her future moot. He sighed fondly at the thought but knew that it was not in his nature to abdicate responsibility for his problems to Fate. Never mind what his sudden death would do to Evey….

Evey. What to do about Evey? He pictured her in his head, eyes averted to avoid showing him her tears: “ _Who am I, Charlie?_ ”. A fissure in him opened a little bit wider at the remembrance. His head throbbed and his grip grew tighter. Again, she appeared: “ _I’m continuing where he left off – this country wasn’t going to be magically made right by the actions of the 5th! Someone had to make it work, and I am doing that._ ” His head pulsated as he moaned in pain – the fissure became a dark crevice. “ _Don’t you hate V for dying and leaving all of that responsibility on you?_ ”….

He had to move, had to act or else his head would simply explode. The pain was excruciating, even in the dark. He couldn’t see her anymore, couldn’t speak her name – she was killing him. The wooden armrests of the chair shattered into razor-sharp shards of wood and carpentry nails under his grip. Something crawled out of the dark crevice within. His eyelids flicked open and he rose from the ruin of his chair without bidding himself to do so. He grabbed the cab keys from the desktop near the door, not bothering to shut it behind him as he made his way outside.

\------------

Charlie had driven a cab for almost two years before becoming Evey’s employee. He worked mostly at night: there were fewer questions about his appearance and it afforded him opportunities to conduct his own affairs with relative anonymity. Charlie kept his hack even after Evey was given the use of a government vehicle. It was occasionally used as a decoy car for Minister Finch, but mostly, on nights like tonight, Charlie used it when he needed to disappear: few things are as unremarkable in a big city as a taxi. Now, sitting in the driver’s seat hermetically sealed from the world by the security screen behind him and the windows surrounding him, he was suddenly relieved of pain. His eyes cleared, his mind focused as he mentally shuffled through a list of destinations and chose one. He shifted the cab into drive heedless of the ribbons of blood that dripped from his palms onto the steeling wheel.

The slick streets of nighttime London rolled towards him and were hungrily eaten by the cab’s headlights. It was very late and there was little or no traffic about. He toyed with the idea of crossing the center divide and driving headlong down the wrong lane, wondering how far he could get before someone or something struck him. Would he die instantaneously? If he didn’t, would the paramedics treat him or take one look at his ravaged face and withhold treatment thinking that they were doing him a favor? Would Evey cry over him? No, she wouldn’t. Not for him. Not if she knew…. His mind clamped down hard on his heart: he couldn’t think of her, he had work to do tonight.

He parked the cab in an alley two blocks away from the site. It was dark and poorly traveled; no one would think to look for an available cab there yet no one would question one parked in the street for the night either. He collected his belongings from the backseat and strode towards the warehouse. The building housed a few U-rent it storage blocks, a small machinist’s shop, and the Valkyrie Press: the public voice of Norsefire, or what remained of them. The V.P. had been chipping away at England’s fledgling democracy ever since the Houses of Parliament became London’s largest crater. Its scathing editorial philosophy had caused many political setbacks in the past four years; there had been tacit threats to various ministers, and non-specific calls for revolt against everything from tax reforms to policing posted in its pages. Charlie felt it was not even suitable to line birdcages with. Then came the rumors of a “death list” created by the V.P. senior staff and issued to underground, militant sympathizers. Charlie had it on good authority that both Finch and Evey were on the list. Evey’s stance was that freedom of expression and freedom of the press were two of the things that she and V had fought to re-instate. They were aspects of a healthy democratic process and to silence the Valkyrie Press was to fall victim to the same scheme of fear mongering and dictatorship that toppled Norsefire. A strong society welcomed all opinions, even dissention. If a “death list” could be found, then the V.P. staff would experience the full force of due process.

Charlie was not so evenhanded. He surveiled and he investigated, and now he stood before the warehouse with the calm breathing of someone who knew their purpose.

"Man's near-religious need for signs of permanence never ceases to amaze me.” Charlie whispered aloud, as if invoking some kind of pagan incantation. 

“Skulking through the seething city tonight; the very thing breathing and alive, looking up while others merely scuttle from one spot to the next, I see that the city is hewn from mighty arcs of sound, beams of light and everywhere buttressed by the life that cement and glass try to deny.” He gestured towards the hulking building as if it was on trial before the rest of the city, and he was making his final summation.

“Everywhere are memories of green; beautiful dreams of life tenuously sought after. Falcons nested on penthouse ledges. Loose dogs stopping traffic with their ferocious indifference to motors and blacktop. Everywhere, everyday I am reminded that man's cathedrals to timelessness are just like us: fallible. Like you.” He turned away from his silent jury and back towards the building.

“We are the pavement but the world is the daisy growing in the crack. That is the beauty of the beneath. It is the beauty of struggle, the beauty of sacrifice –it is her beauty, and my dream. I will not let you destroy it. If I must break my bones on your girders and slice my flesh on your glass, I will prevail. My will is stronger than yours!”

The building was silent to his challenge. Like a hunter giving thanks to the prey that he is about to kill, he nodded his head reverently and tore the boards off an old window. He broke the glass padding softly into the gloom, feeling like the skin of night itself. The tools of his tyranny in hand: matches, accelerant, and explosive charges. The strange nature of evening light turned his world a thousand shades of blue: navy, midnight, cyan, cerulean. The silence and the swirl of blue were so peaceful that it made his movements seem dreamlike. Charlie crossed the warehouse expanse carefully and quickly finding his target almost without looking for it. He let the stillness settle again before he bent to set the charges. This silence before the skip of friction, the whiff of sulfur, the whoosh and growl of flames was the only peace that would satisfy him this night. He was born of fire; destruction was his art. How horrible that she should love a destroyer of worlds, he thought before his mind could banish it. How could he ever make it right? The peace was shattered. The moment was gone.

He struck the match.  
Blue, white, yellow-orange.  
Hold it. Hold it. Now!

The flame made a graceful arc to the floor and suddenly the place was alive. His work cackled, bustled and consumed, growing louder and hotter with fuel. The flames moved around him like scarves in water; reverent of their master they rose and cocooned him like petals, kissing his feet as they sighed with spent passion. He felt the searing heat and breathed in the acrid smoke, extending his blood-soaked hands as he welcomed the chaos back into him.

“I am home. Evey, for you…”

A support beam snapped like a gunshot and he was jolted into reality once more: he must make his leave before the charges detonated. Regretfully he turned his back leaving the work unfinished; what was left remained for others to interpret. Leaping to the ground from a window, he disappeared beneath again. His silhouette against the flames and the night were his only signs of passing before the explosives obliterated the warehouse completely sending Valkyrie Press to Valhalla. And placing him solidly back in the purgatory of a dirty, damned terrorist.

\----------------------

Charlie was home before sunrise. He parked the cab in the back garage and worked quickly and efficiently to rid it of his blood and any evidence of his arson job. His hands had started to hurt him almost as soon as the adrenaline of his violent fugue had worn off: they were covered in soot, gasoline, dirt and dried blood. But the pain was good. The evening had been good. For a brief time he had felt focused and in control of his surroundings. Whatever lurked within him had been sated – for now – and he had to admit that the dizzying thrill of madness had been something that he had missed. His only sorrow was that he could not share this with Evey: Charlie was a helper, Charlie was not a terrorist. Just add another lie to the stack that he was rapidly accumulating. 

Entering his apartment he listened for sounds that Evey was awake above. When only silence greeted him he hurried to the bathroom and began tweezing out the slivers in his palms and washing away the blood. Damn, he thought, he was going to need a tetanus shot; some of the slivers were deep. Just as he had finished he was startled by her voice.

“Charlie, are you up?”

Looking around the bathroom in a panic he found a pair of gloves under the sink and slid them on.

“Charlie? You around?”  
“Yes, I’m in the loo. Be right out.” He opened the door hoping that she wasn’t standing right there; he hadn’t changed his clothes and he smelled like gasoline and ash. His apartment was dark and she was standing just inside the front door backlit from the hallway.

“Your door was wide open, you know.” Her voice warmed to him. “What are you doing in the pitch dark like this? Another headache?”

She started towards him and lightly tripped over what was left of his armchair. He moved quickly to steady her, and secretly thanked whatever impulse had caused him to leave gloves in the bathroom cabinet.

“Watch it there…” he took her hands in his.

“Charlie, what happened? Are you alright?” The light shone through her hair giving her a fuzzy halo. Remnants of light highlighted her cheekbones and her small ears but any expression was lost in the deep shadows of her face. Nevertheless, he could tell that she was worried. He savored the pinprick feeling that she might care for him as he did her.

“Oh, it’s so stupid. I _was_ having one of those headaches and decided to lie down while the meds kicked in. I must have drifted off and when I tried to make my way to the bathroom, I tripped over the damn chair and broke the armrests off. I’m just a big oaf – it never occurred to me to turn on the lights, of course.” He chuckled as if to reassure her that it was nothing, but he could not see her face in order to tell if she was convinced. “I must’ve made a horrible noise. Did I wake you, Eve?”

“No.” She reached up and stroked the side of his face slowly tracing her fingers upwards to his temple. Time came to a screeching halt and he held his breath. “Poor Charlie. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, my dear. Much. Too bad about the chair though, I was rather fond of it.” He was rambling in an attempt to control his breathing.

“Never mind, I’ll find you another one.” Her chirpy retort was so abrupt as to jar both of them out of the soft moment that they had created. “I have to go into the office immediately – something has happened. But, if you aren’t well I’ll call a cab.”

“No, I’m perfectly well. I’ll drive you.” He sighed in frustration. “Eve, did you hear _anything_ that I said last night about allowing your work to consume you? Surely whatever it is can wait until you’ve had at least eight hours sleep.”

“Yes, I heard you, and no, it can’t wait, Charlie.” The faint hall light picked up a small twinkle in one of her eyes. “Someone blew up the Valkyrie Press building last night – took out a whole city block. It’s V, Charlie! I know it is – he’s back!”

She turned on her heels and skipped over the chair mess heading for the door.

“But, Eve…”

“C’mon, Charlie! Eric has called an emergency staff meeting and I need to find out as many details as I can. Let’s go!” She disappeared down the hallway before he could say another word.


	3. Out of Nowhere

Evey practically leapt from the car while it was still moving in order to make her meeting with Eric Finch. Her enthusiasm at last night’s news left Charlie feeling cold all over. He dutifully parked the car behind the security shed and proceeded to Finch’s office like a somnambulist. The discussion had already begun but that had not stopped Evey from getting right into it.

“Eric, how can you ignore the obviousness of the situation?”

“Evelyn, the information available is minimal. Do you hear me? Minimal. Forensics will be at least another 12 hours. The sheer size of the crime scene and the force of the explosion are making the collection of trace evidence challenging, to put it mildly. The only thing that we know for certain is that fire services discovered the source of the blast and it was centered around the Valkyrie Press section of the structure. It was not an accident, and other possible targets in the warehouse have been cleared. Anything else at this point is pure speculation…” Eric’s cop instincts died hard.

“Eric!” Evey sputtered incredulously “Assuming that Special Services didn’t do it, who else would have?” Two tall men in identical black suits and sunglasses shuffled awkwardly next to Charlie in the office doorway. Special Services was the post-Norsefire reincarnation of MI-5; they were responsible for internal security, threat assessment and domestic covert ops. Unlike the police, they answered directly to the P.M. and were not publicly accountable. Rumors circulated for ages that S.S.B. was the dirty left hand of the new “people’s” government. Eric detested them. Charlie smiled knowingly at one of the agents who was there as part of Eric’s security detail. The agent looked puzzled, then disgusted, and then looked away.

“Evey, stop right there!” Eric moved towards her and used his most forceful, fatherly tone. “We will NOT be suppressing any theories or ruling anything out until the facts narrow our focus. This could be just a random act. It could be I.R.A.: V.P. was on their list every since they wrote that piece about finishing off what St. Mary’s failed to do in Ireland. It could be the Islamic Freedom Front. Hell, for all we know, the V.P. bastards blew it up themselves in order to throw us off our game and gain public sympathy!” 

Eric ran his fingers through his thinning dark hair making it stand out in unsightly spikes. For a moment, he looked exactly like the tired, frustrated cop that Evey had met 10 years before. He was an unlikely national hero but the people trusted him, more so than the P.M. himself, because he was an everyman figure. Eric exuded tough, honest accountability. It had been honed through years of police work and cemented by his actions on the night of the 5th. Despite his near 20-year commitment to Norsefire, he had emerged as a hero to the underclass, and it had been Evey’s genius that had exploited that and launched him into the second highest post in the country. But, basically, no one “ran” Eric: he was always his own man and this was why both he and Evey had become Norsefire targets. Eric had betrayed them and couldn’t be bought, and Evey had helped him achieve success on the national stage. Between his drive and her brilliance for public policy, they might succeed in making Eric Finch Prime Minister in the near future.

“Alright, Eric.” Evey sighed “Just bear in mind that _my theory_ might also be valid.”

“Of course.” He squeezed her arm gently in a typical gesture that always rubbed Charlie the wrong way. “Now, down to immediate responses.” Eric turned to the other staffers present in the room.

“Dudley, co-ordinate with Chief Inspector Stone and make sure that this office knows the latest on the investigation well before anyone else does. You two are to be glued at the hip until we resolve this.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Andrew, we’re gonna have to make some kind of public statement…”

“Already done, boss. Preliminary statement outline is on your laptop and the press conference is set-up for 2p.m. today, so that we’ll safely make the evening news.”

“Um, sir?” One of the S.S.B. agents cleared his throat “All public initiatives will have to be cleared through S.S.B. section chief in advance…”

“Fine.” Eric growled “Andrew, go with him and sort it all out, will you? Oh, and Andrew – let’s put a suggestion in the statement that if the bombing was in response to the V.P.’s editorial policies, that we would be willing to aid them in setting up a new press location.”

The whole room froze. 

“But, sir!”

“Make it contingent on the V.P. staff _requesting_ our assistance, Andrew.” He looked at his staffer over the rims of his glasses “A strong government welcomes dissenting opinions.”

“Yes sir.” Andrew and the security operative left both unable to wrap their heads around Eric’s theory.

“Marjorie, I’ll need your expertise in the video room. Meet me there in five minutes, okay? Everyone else, back to your regular assignments: it’s a Monday like any other and we all have work to do. Chop, chop!” Eric clapped his hands and staffers started to clear the office. Evey remained while Charlie waited by the door.

“Nice move with the press relocation offer…” Evey smiled at her boss as he gathered his papers.

“Oh, you would’ve thought of it if you weren’t so….distracted by the news” Eric smiled back. 

His tone with her was always more informal; no doubt as a result of their years of friendship and political struggle together Charlie always told himself. Eric had always been accepting of Charlie and treated him with almost the same deference as he did Evey, but at times like these Charlie felt invisible in their presence. It made him uncomfortably agitated as if he were a child excluded from an adult conversation. If only the rest of the world faded away for Evey when she was in _his_ presence….

“It’ll work to our advantage nicely: V.P. will never request assistance from their “enemy” and face losing supporters. We take the high moral ground, thus shoring up our own base, we demonstrate that we are comfortable with a vocal opposition in this country, and, we cast serious doubt on the inevitable conspiracy theory that we were responsible for the explosion in the first place. And it doesn’t cost us a thing, financially or politically. All neat and tidy.” 

“My Machiavellian ways must be rubbing off on you,” said Evey.

“Only your best moves and your brilliant mind are rubbing off, my dear. You’ll always have a job – never fear – I’ll never be as consistently sharp as you.” Eric shifted his papers into one arm, pulling her close with the other and kissing the top of her head lightly. Evey laughed. Charlie averted his eyes and tried to stem the rising tide of anger within him.

“Eve, I need you to come with me to the video room. Charlie too.” Charlie’s head snapped up and saw Eric looking at him “There’s something that you two need to see.”

\-------------------------

 

As the three of them walked through the office and into the security wing on the building, Charlie began to regret his nocturnal adventure. Evey and Eric walked on ahead with Charlie bringing up the rear at a distance. The explosion had destroyed a possible enemy but had also created a new, hostile focus on the one that he loved. Simultaneously, it has resurrected the specter of V in Evey’s mind and would probably cost her more time at work trying to discover his whereabouts and help Eric through the crisis. Charlie would be more marginalized than ever. Just dull, helpful, forgettable Charlie.

They reached the video room and found homely Marjorie spooling through digital security video feed. Eric closed and locked the door behind them; Marjorie seemed not to notice, though both Charlie and Evey obviously tensed. There were no locked doors in Eric Finch’s department.

“Marjorie, please bring up the enhanced surveillance from last night.” Eric turned to both Charlie and Evey “I didn’t want to bring this up in front of the others – let alone those S.S.B. goons. We have what I believe is footage of the bomber – it appears to be just one man, which is why I had to come down on you so hard for your V theory, Evey – I can’t have THAT kinda rumor circulating out of this office. I don’t believe that it’s him, Eve. I’m certain that he would’ve made an appearance before now if he were still alive. He had something precious to come back for, after all.” Eric squeezed Evey’s arm again, but out of Marjorie’s eyesight. No one but Eric and Charlie knew the complete story of her time with V, and she wanted it kept that way. Evey stared agog.

“This is Eye cctv feed, isn’t it?” Her eyes hardened as she looked back at Eric. “They were all supposed to be deactivated after the 5th! Eric, it was part of your platform: no more intrusions into the people’s right to privacy!”

“Not all of them are active – only about 25%, mostly in high crime areas. We did it to help with policing. So many still won’t report crimes for fear of being blacklisted somehow; it was the only way to prevent a new wave of organized crime! I can’t fight Norsefire AND crime syndicates – there are only so many hours in the day, Evelyn!” Eric took a deep breath. “We didn’t have any eyes at the warehouse. This feed is from an alleyway 2 blocks west of the scene. Play it, Marg.”

The feed was grainy and out of focus. It had been blown up and lightened in order to give as much detail as possible, which wasn’t much. A shadowy figure walked swiftly to a large, dark car – it was impossible to see into the car or even determine the model. The figure held a small can or box in his hands. He opened the car and placed the can inside. He turned to look behind him revealing a mostly grey ¾ view of his face. The footage stopped here. Behind Evey, Charlie held his breath.

“As you can see, he’s almost unidentifiable.” Eric continued “The car never becomes visible, there are no distinctive marks or a license plate, and as far as Dominic has been able to determine, he left no evidence at the scene. Marg has cleaned up the image as much as humanly possible, but we’ll never get an i.d. off of that.”

Eric turned back to them.

“I wanted you to see it, Eve, because if it was him, I’m sure that you’d be able to tell. This guy wasn’t wearing a mask. No hat, no cloak. After seeing this, do you still think that it might be him?” Eric was genuinely asking, not trying to prove a point.

Evey searched the grainy still image in front of her for any sign of recognition. Seconds stretched out into a full minute of silence. Her eyes began to sting and filled with tears. She lowered her head and reached behind her to grab Charlie’s hand. He inwardly gasped, but laced his fingers through hers and gripped her hand tightly.

“No.” She said quietly trying not to let out a sob. “No, that’s not V.”

Eric was quiet for a moment.

“Okay, then. The other reason that I wanted you both to see it is for personal safety. The S.S.B. didn’t do this – if they had, it would’ve been a team with lots of hardware, not one guy. If the V.P. did this themselves for whatever purpose, and the “death list” is real, this guy could come after you, Evey. I want you to be aware, both of you. Keep your eyes open. If it was some other group – someone that’s not on our radar yet – then, we don’t know their motives and we could all be targeted. Charlie, I’m leaving the care of this precious person to you, understand?” Eric stared over his glasses at Charlie “That’s why you need to know everything.” 

“Yes, sir. I know what my job is. If someone wants her, they’ll have to come through me.” Charlie squeezed Evey’s hand harder, and to his great surprise her grip tightened on him as well.

“Good. Now, go home, Evey. I have nothing for you to do here.”

“But, Eric…” she started.

“But nothing. Anything that I need you to do can wait for 8 to 12 hours. Go home and get some rest. I’m sure that Charlie has told you the same thing. Go on, now” Eric fluttered a hand at her.

“As a matter of fact, I have…” Charlie began, but Evey let go of his hand, turned on her heel and walked out of the video room leaving him behind.

\------------------------------------

Charlie brought the car around front for Evey. A large crowd had gathered outside the Interior Ministry building in the hours since the explosion. The crowd was a strange mix of concerned citizenry and potentially dangerous rabble-rousers. Charlie’s nervous focus ratcheted up a notch. Evey stood on the ministry stoop as Charlie pulled up. She began walking towards him as he exited the car and opened the back door for her while scanning the crowd. Something wasn’t right – he could feel it, but beyond that he could not pin it down. Almost without warning, his vision drained of colour as the crowd became a monochromatic grey scale.

6 o’clock: teen in the hooded sweatshirt that kept wiping his mouth with his sleeve - he was speaking into a finger microphone. 11 o’clock: middle-aged couple NOT looking at Evey, but at Charlie – their eyes kept flicking in the direction of the teenager. 12 o’clock: a uniformed officer trying to keep the crowd a safe distance from the ministry gates – all officers were dealing with the faces in front of them, he was looking over his shoulder at Evey – no, _beyond_ Evey. 

Charlie followed the officer’s eye line and saw a man dressed in an S.S.B. suit following Evey down the ministry steps. Charlie knew all of the security detail agents, but he didn’t know this man. He was reaching for Evey’s arm and pulling something from his pocket.

“Excuse me, Miss Hammond….”

Evey turned and then was grabbed, twisted in mid-air, and thrown towards the open car. Charlie turned back towards the unfamiliar agent, after launching Evey into the air, caught his hand with the loaded hypodermic needle in it and one swift motion, broke his arm. The agent crumpled to the ground screaming. In an instant Charlie was moving towards Evey, but the crowd had been frightened and now people scattered in every direction tripping him up and knocking him off center. 

Evey lay on the ground near the car still dazed from being thrown. The teen in the hoodie was fighting the crowd to get to her. Charlie growled and made for him, but was clubbed from behind by the crowd-controlling policeman. With lights flashing across his eyes, he turned to face the officer and found himself staring down the man’s gun barrel. Charlie heard a click as the officer squeezed the trigger and he grabbed the officer’s arm and pushed downwards. The gun went off and the officer’s left foot exploded in a puddle of blood and bone. Charlie grabbed the gun from the howling man and used the handle to pistol whip the officer into unconsciousness. 

Turning back towards Evey once again, he saw her on her feet struggling with the teenager. She threw him up against the car with considerable force but he brutally punched her and she temporarily went limp. The middle-aged woman caught her and fumbled in her pocket for something. Charlie was on her in an instant dropping the gun in his hand in order to wrestle Evey free. Charlie punched the woman in the throat and she dropped the limp Evey who crumpled to the ground. The teenager pulled a gun and fired just as Charlie pulled the middle-aged woman in front of him. The bullet penetrated her chest and ripped through Charlie’s jacket on the upper left side. Using the dead woman’s body as a shield, he pinned the teen against the car. He dropped the body, grabbed the teen’s gun hand, whipped the boy around so that he stood behind him and then snapped the kid’s neck. The boy’s body fell lifeless to the ground amid the screaming and mounting chaos of the crowd’s panic. As Charlie turned around to retrieve Evey he was knocked senseless to the ground by a powerful blow.

Temporarily blinded, Charlie shook himself back to reality and looked up to see the middle-aged man staring down at him pointing a gun. 

“You, fucking mutant cocksucker! Susan said to take you alive, but fuck that!” The man cocked the trigger and a shot rang out. His cruel expression turned and he fell dead to the ground. The next thing Charlie knew, Evey was standing over him with the police officer’s gun in her hand. She reached down to offer him a hand, her face lined with terror.

“Just _when_ are you gonna learn the value of carrying a firearm, Charlie?”


	4. Collapsed Frame

Evey pulled Charlie to his feet. He was so relieved to see that she was okay that he did not see the downed S.S.B. agent behind her until the last moment. Despite the man’s broken arm, he had switched his gun to his other hand and had a clear line of sight to Evey’s back. Charlie grabbed Evey and threw her through the open door into the back seat of the car as a shot rang wide and hit the roof. Charlie dove into the backseat closing the door behind him as he landed on top of Evey’s supine body. The car doors locked automatically. The screaming of the crowd and sporadic gunfire resumed outside; the tinted windows made sharp snapping noises as the bullets hit fracturing but not piercing the glass.

Charlie landed on top of Evey with a grunt and he awkwardly lay still over her until the pain diminished. Her hands reflexively reached for his sides to ease his fall, and she met with a wet slickness on his left side. He fought off the paralytic impulse to remain exactly where he was feeling her solidness supporting the length of him; he had no time for it. He must get to the wheel. He had to get them out of here. He moaned slightly as he tried to shift his weight, but her hands became clamped to his sides stopping his struggle. Suddenly, her overwhelming panic shifted focus away from her.

“Charlie!” she breathed into his neck as he lay across her.

“I’m sorry, my dear. My treatment of you in the last two minutes has been abominable, yet unavoidable.” He hissed slightly as he rolled off her and tried to climb over the seat divider to the driver’s seat.

“Charlie! You’re…”

“Evey, stay down! The manufacturer claims that these car windows are bullet proof, which actually means that they’re only strongly bullet _resistant_. We have to get you out of here NOW!” He shifted the car into drive and floored it, not caring whether he hit anyone in front of him. His only mission was to get Evey safely away.

Speeding from the scene, Charlie saw police service cars screeching towards the ministry. No doubt, within the next 2 minutes the entire building would be locked down and everyone caught within a mile of it would be forcefully detained. Although Charlie knew differently, last night’s explosion would no longer be considered an isolated incident. To his own mind, the attempt on Evey’s life was extremely disturbing: the assailants were organized and determined. This was not the work of a rag-tag underground resistance movement – this had military training written all over it. His mind raced through the possibilities as he raced through the streets. The only thing that he hung onto was a name: Susan.

“Charlie! We need to get to a hospital…” Evey tried again.

“Are you injured?” Charlie’s silver eyes flicked to the rear view mirror.

“No, but…”

“Good. Please stay down, my dear, just in case there is a mobile unit following us.”

Driving clear across the city and then doubling back using alleys and one-way streets, eventually they arrived at their flat after Charlie determined that they were not being followed. He drove into the back garage, locked and secured the building before he released Evey from the backseat. Without letting her get a word in edgewise, he hustled her into her apartment where he had already drawn the blinds using only minimal lighting. 

“Charlie, we need to get you to a hospital RIGHT NOW!” she shook loose of his grip.

He turned to face her as he finished locking her front door summoning up his most innocent look.

“Nonsense, it’s just a scratch, my sweet. An elastopast and some bactine and I’ll be fine.”

“CHARLIE!” Evey closed here eyes and screamed. He had never seen her this terrified before. She was shaking all over, she had his blood on her clothes and hand, and, he noticed, she still had the gun in her hand, her finger twitching over the trigger. She appeared as though every pore of her was going to erupt with delayed shock.

“Alright, Evey.” He tried for a calming tone. “We’re alright. You’re safe here. I promised you, didn’t I? I promised that they’d have to come through me, and no one gets past me, do they, petal?” He walked forward lightly and cautiously slipped the gun from her grip while pulling her into his chest. She started to cry in wracking, nervous, unstoppable sobs.

“Mmmph mmuhh mpsphhmmm?”

“Um, what was that, Evey?”

She lifted her swollen, tear-stained face from his jacket while clutching at him for dear life. The look on her face undid every hard, analytical fiber in him.

“But they _did_ get to you, didn’t they?” She shifted her face towards the now substantial bloodstain on his jacket. She backed away from him and wiped her face with her sleeves.

“If you won’t go to a hospital, then strip off your jacket and shirt – I’ll do what I can here. But, if it’s severe, Charlie,” she wagged her finger at him schoolteacher style “I’m calling Eric and you will do or go anywhere that he dictates, is that understood?” Her tone brooked no refusal and he knew better than to try. “By the way, you didn’t have to worry about the gun. I put the safety on.”

“Oh. Right.” He laid the gun on the kitchen table next to her work files and coffee mug, and proceeded to strip himself to the waist.

Charlie had never made any attempt to hide his scarred body from Evey almost from the first day that they had met 5 years ago. It was a sharp contrast from his previous life where he had gone to great lengths to disguise every inch of myself from the world. He had not made a conscious decision to go about it this way, but looking back on it now, he saw this choice as a test: both for him and Evey. She had lived with V and knew a little of his physical deformity. Perhaps it was because of this experience that she never batted an eyelash at Charlie’s skin as almost everyone else did. Would she still have treated him with such equanimity if she had thought that the man beneath the fawkesian mask was matinee idol perfect? It was just another way that V’s memory coloured everything between them. As for testing himself, he wanted to know if he could ever be completely comfortable with another person. He always felt a slight hesitation beforehand, but the tactile pleasure that he received whenever he happened to brush up against her often silenced the doubt within. Now he sat waiting for her ministrations, every part of him oversensitive to whatever action she might take. He watched her collect things from her kitchen - a bowl with warm water, a cloth, antiseptic, and a first aid kit. With each movement he felt like the air that she moved through: invisibly disturbed and hopelessly altered. 

The lower left side of his torso was covered in blood but the flow had trickled to an ooze, and he felt certain that it looked worse than it was. Evey placed her tools on the table beside her and bent to her task of cleaning him. Gently she washed away the dried blood and investigated the wound. She poked and prodded, occasionally laying a hand on his chest for support or suggesting that he shift this way or that. Neither of them said a word; he stared at her, she stared at her task. Then she rose and inspected the holes in his jacket and shirt. When she was satisfied, she knelt once again, bit her lip, and spoke without looking at him.

“The bullet passed through you. The wound seems clean and your clothing is intact – no pieces missing that could be inside. The blood flow is staunched. I’ll wrap you and bandage you. If the blood continues to seep, you’re going to a doctor – no arguments. I can’t do any better.”

“You’re doing fine,” he said quietly.

She looked up at him then outwardly calm but her eyes were wide and glassy. It was a stare that said she no longer wished to disguise herself from him. Near death experiences had a way of dispensing with perfunctory bullshit, he thought. He wondered what his stare looked like to her in that moment. She blinked and took the gauze from the first aid kit. She resumed her task and began to speak again.

“We should talk about it.”

“Really Evey, I’m sure that the trauma is still fresh in both of our minds….” He sighed feeling tired for the first time since it all happened.

“Not the attack. We can get to that later. I mean what I saw on the security tape.”

“The security tape? You can’t still think that it was V… that figure was unidentifiable, Evey.”

“It wasn’t unidentifiable and it wasn’t V – I’m sure of it. It was you, Charlie.” She taped the bandage in place and then looked up at him again.

“What? Me?”

“Yes, Charlie. I know you as I knew V. Eric may not have recognized you, but no amount of photographic obscuring could make me doubt it. I can recognize _you both_.” She placed both hands on his chest and raised herself up onto her knees so that she was at eye level with him. “Why did you do it, Charlie?”

“I didn’t. You are mistaken.” He was suddenly very uncomfortable with her proximity.

“Charlie,” she sighed “Please, don’t lie to me. I love Eric, but his responsibility in this matter is to the people that elected him. My loyalty is to you. If I was asked to chose between Eric and you, I would always pick you.”

Charlie felt something that may have been close to arrhythmia at her words, and he panicked. He pushed his chair back violently and stood up feeling at once both lightheaded and sore. He grabbed his useless shirt from the table with the thought of covering himself, though it was so bloodstained that he just clutched it to his chest instead.

“I didn’t.”

“Just tell me why, Charlie? I need to know.”

“Evey, please…” With every word he was backing away from her into the shadows of her home. Finally he felt a wall behind him and knew that he was trapped between the immovable and the scrutiny of her faith. He wanted to be something other than what she had come to expect, but a man can never truly escape who he is. She had burdens enough and he did not want to add to them, in fact, Charlie had come into existence in order to help her with her responsibilities. Once again, he had come up short. Something inside him turned and stretched. The blackness yawned sleepily and he spoke without thinking.

“You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it.”

“What?” It was a gasp more than a question.

“We are errant knaves all, believe none of us.” He growled at her as his heart thundered in his chest.

Breathlessly she reached into the darkness after him. Her hands met his chest and traveled upwards to the scarred face that she could not see. Her thumbs caressed his lips as he caught her hands and prevented them from traveling further. She rose up onto her toes.

“Charlie?” she whispered doubtfully.

His head moved slightly as he tried to slide out from under her hands. A hint of light caught in his eyes and caused them to flash silver in the darkness of the room. He made a strange noise like a trapped animal, and she gasped. Her fingers dug into his jawbone. 

“V?”

They both jumped as the doorbell rang. Standing in the dark blindly staring at one another, neither made a move until the bell rang again followed by the kind of I-know-you-are-there-answer-the-bloody-door knocking that cannot be ignored. Charlie moved to the window and peered through the blinds.

“It’s a man in fedora and a long coat.” He said a little incredulously.

“Oh.” Said Evey, still dazed. “Better see what he wants.”

Charlie left the apartment. Evey felt that she might burst out laughing or crying at any moment. Either that, or she might pass out and enjoy a little bout on unconsciousness while her mind tried to sort out all of the day’s information. A woman’s constitution, even a strong one, could only stand so many surprises at once. But she would have to withstand one more. She heard Charlie returning to the apartment chatting with whomever was dressed in the coat and fedora. They both entered the room and the stranger doffed his fedora to reveal that he was Eric.

“Eric! What are you doing here? What’s with the outfit?” said Evey.

“I’ve only just managed to get out from under my S.S.B. handlers. They’ve shut down the ministry for an investigation into the assassination attempt, but I wasn’t going to sit on my hands and let them figure things out. I can’t deny my cop instincts.” He smiled like a child with a secret. 

“It’s easier to slip these guys than they think. Besides, I couldn’t get any information about your condition out of anybody. I figured that since Charlie wasn’t among the injured or dead, he had kept his promise. So I thought that I’d try here first.”

“Mmph.” grumbled Charlie “I hate being predictable.”

“You’re not.” Evey shot back, her stare full of meaning.

“Well, what I need to know,” said Eric ignoring the exchange “is what details can you tell me about the assailants? Charlie?”

“Not much. The attack was organized and sophisticated. 5 individuals, all in communication with on another, blended into their background – one was even dressed as an S.S.B. agent.”

“Yes, we have that one in custody – well, surgery, actually – he probably won’t make it.”

“One of them mentioned a name: Susan.”

“Who the hell is she?” asked Eric to no one in particular. “And what does she want with Evey?”

“I don’t think that they were after me, or you, Eric.” Evey piped up. Both men looked at her. She said the next sentence slowly and clearly.

“I think that they were after Charlie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes:
> 
> “You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it.” - Hamlet act III, sc I, line 117-118.
> 
> “We are errant knaves all, believe none of us.” - Hamlet act III, sc I, line 129.


	5. Revealed

“I don’t understand,” said Eric “Why do you think that the assassins weren’t after you, Evey?”

Charlie just stared at her with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation on his face. Their most revealing moment had been interrupted by Eric’s arrival and Charlie had no idea what Evey would do next with the information that she thought she had. It was amazing how their ordered life of the past 5 years had gone so sideways in under 24 hours. Whatever happened now, Charlie was sure that they could never go back to things as they had been, and something inside of him died a bit as he bid farewell to the brief years of happiness that he had experienced in his life.

“Think about it logically for a second, Eric,” Evey sighed with exhaustion “Today’s events were not perpetrated by the same group as last night’s bombing. You said it yourself, the evidence suggests that the bomber was alone, which could mean that the motive for the bombing was personal, not political.” Evey’s eyes flicked briefly to Charlie before continuing.

“Today’s attack was organized and strategic, as you both have noted. While it came on the heels of the bombing, that just might have been advantageous timing on their part defecting from their primary purpose.”

“I would have to agree; we are dealing with a whole different animal in today’s assault team.” Charlie said quietly “They had structure and a singular mission focus: as soon as I cut down one, another took over trying to reclaim the primary target. This is the hallmark of military or tactical training, not political idealism. But they were aiming for you, Evey. They wanted you. How do you think that this is about me?”

“No, I was merely a means to an end.” She lowered eyes and refused to look at him. “Remember what the older one said before I shot him? ‘Susan said to take you alive’. I was the bait, Charlie, you were the prey they were stalking.”

“You’re basing your entire theory on one sentence, Evey. In the trade, we call that a hunch….” said Eric.

“But Eric, what purpose does it serve to launch an aggressive, daylight attack in a highly uncontrollable environment, with the possibility of losing valuable operatives just to kidnap a mid-level policy drafter – one of a dozen that you have working for you?”

“You are MUCH more than that, Evey…” he chided.

“Perhaps, but no one outside of this room knows that. If you were going to propose such a risky operation, wouldn’t it be for a high value target? Someone or thing that couldn’t be gotten any other way? Why didn’t they go after you, for example, Eric? They had someone inside the S.S.B. and inside the ministry – why not grab you? They didn’t even try. What is the one thing about me that no one else involved in this has? What’s the one thing that separates me from the other staffers or you?”

“You are the only person not under S.S.B. security. You are the only one connected to Charlie.” Eric sighed and looked at Charlie. “You have to admit, her theory is starting to shape up.”

Charlie’s head was spinning but he could not tell if it was from blood loss or something deeper. Why would anyone want him? He was nobody; he had seen to it when he was reborn. Up until last night he had been a law-abiding, tax-paying citizen with no remarkable attributes to the casual observer. His only purpose was Evey. It never occurred to him that anyone would use her to get to him, not anymore. It was always a risk when she was with V, but V was dead and he had hoped that the risk had died with him. The dizziness turned to nausea and he began to shiver slightly only then realizing that he was still shirtless. As if telegraphing his thoughts, Evey moved to the closet, found a blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders while gently relieving him of the bloody shirt that he still clutched in his hands.

“So the question is, why you, Charlie?” Eric was musing aloud.

“I don’t know the answer to that. Other than working for Eve, I am unremarkable.”

Eric stared at him doubtfully, but Evey’s back was turned and he could not read her expression. He wanted to scream that he was sorry for putting her at risk again. All that he wanted was to help and to be near her, but it looked as though he was going to have to abandon her again. It was doubtful that she had forgiven V for leaving her, but it was inconceivable that she would forgive him for this. What else could he do? Evey was everything to him. If he had to disappear forever in order to ensure her safety, he would have to do just that.

“Well,” Eric interrupted his stream of consciousness “It stands to reason that if they tried to get you at the ministry, that they’ll try and get you here too. We’ll have to move you to a safe house, Evey can stay in the ministry barracks.”

“No!” both Evey and Charlie replied in unison.

“I’ve made fortifications to this structure. I am as safe here as I would be in any secure facility.” Said Charlie.

“I’m not leaving Charlie.” Said Evey, catching both Charlie and Eric by surprise.

“Evey, be reasonable.” Eric groaned.

“This question is no longer open for debate. Charlie is my security – I trust him with my life, and I’m not leaving him.”

Charlie tried to reason with her.

“Evey, if this is a determined threat, I may have to…leave here. I cannot protect both you and me if that happens. It might be best for you,” he summoned up all of his remaining courage “to leave me here now, and go with Eric.”

Evey fixed him with a stare that could freeze water instantly.

“I’m not leaving you. Besides, I’m not helpless: I’m an excellent markswoman thanks to Eric, and you still don’t know a gun butt from its barrel, do you?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him and the two stood staring each other down for several seconds. Finally Eric, feeling more than a bit uncomfortable, broke the silence and made for the front door.

“If this is your decision, I’ll have a rotating security detail posted around the building. Don’t worry; they’ll be undercover and unobtrusive. And I’ll expect you to check in every 12 hours. Evey, for now, you’re officially on paid leave for “psychological reasons”. If you insist upon working, I’ll email you files as you need them. Dominic is working night and day on this one – perhaps it can be cleared up soon and we can all get back to our lives, hmmmm?” Eric tried to sound optimistic but it wasn’t in his nature and, instead, it came out sounding like a prayer for the dead. He donned his fedora and then embraced Evey.

“Try to stay out of trouble, okay? And remember – I want to hear from you every 12 hours…”

“Okay.” She had tears in her voice. Eric turned to Charlie.

“I’m going to figure this out. Be careful.”

“I will. Thank you, Eric.” They shook hands and Eric was gone as Charlie went to secure the building once more.

When Charlie returned to her apartment, they continued staring at each other from across the room; Charlie sheltered by the shadows near the doorway and Evey under the lights of the kitchen. Eventually he sagged against the closed door and sighed.

“Why didn’t you go with Eric?” he asked quietly.

“Why did you blow up the Valkyrie Press?” she retorted.

“Eve, please! I can’t protect you! You should have taken Eric up on his offer – you can still have a life; more than this one…”

“What? With him?! What is wrong with you! I _have_ a life, it’s not easy but nothing ever is. I don’t want to be sheltered and cared for like a houseplant, Charlie. What makes you think that I would want to be with Eric?” her blood was rising.

“You care for him, he cares for you – you work well together…”

“He’s old enough to be my father! Besides, he’s banging Marjorie – they’ve been at it for months. Christ, you are clueless…”

“Marjorie? Really?” he mumbled, “Still, he has resources, and he would never abandon you.”

“Is that what you’re planning on doing, Charlie?”

“Eve, why can’t you see that it is because of me that you are at risk – if I’m gone, so is the danger to you.”

“And what sort of life do I have then!”

“You can start fresh…”

She ran across the apartment towards him. The yelling was exhausting.

“How can you walk away from the past 5 years so casually?” she clutched at the blanket around him bringing herself up against his exposed chest.

“I can’t… I don’t want to.” He breathed.

“You abandoned me once, V, and it nearly killed me to see you walk away in favor of your cause. Don’t you _dare_ do it again, all for something as pointless as my safety! I could be killed crossing the street tomorrow – IT’S MY RISK TO TAKE!”

“For the last time,” he growled “I am NOT V!”

“Why did you blow up the press?”

His hands went to his temples, as a sudden bolt of electricity seemed to shoot from one side of his head to the other. He groaned leaning his head back against the door and squeezing his eyes shut. The nausea rose again and he felt as though he might faint from the combination. Painful flashes twitched his body as he leaned heavily into the door.

“Dammit, woman! You’re killing me…” he said through gritted teeth “You’re splitting my head to pieces!”

He slid down the doorframe as his knees buckled. She caught him before he hit the floor and struggled to get him upright again. He dropped the blanket and his head flopped forward putting all of his remaining energy into his legs so that he could make it the couch to which she was leading him. He sank gratefully into its plush cushions and nearly lost consciousness on the spot.

“I adore you, Evey,” he mumbled semi-coherently “Why can’t you see that everything I do is for you? Why can’t you see… see me… you don’t see… I’m so far away…”

“Charlie? CHARLIE!” she shook him but his eyes rolled up into his head. She felt for a pulse: it was strong but erratic. “Dammit! Blood sugar…”

She raced to the kitchen scrambling for something to give him. Returning to his side with a carton of orange juice and some digestive biscuits, she slowly made him drink until his eyes began to focus again. She checked his bandage but it was still in place and didn’t appear to be soaking up excess blood. She breathed a sigh of relief and began to feed him parts of biscuits.

“I’m sorry, Charlie.”

“I’ll be alright. I need my pills.” He said distantly.

She retrieved his migraine meds from his apartment, picking up some of his clothes while she was there. When she returned, she covered him with the abandoned blanket and gave him his dosage. She waited. Evey knew that the meds worked fast and would, in all likelihood, cause him to pass out and rest. She had so many questions; so many things that she wanted to say. It would all have to wait, just like everything to do with them: it was always “Not now. Another time.”. She gently laid him out across the couch and sat on the floor near his head listening to him breathe. She could not think of anything else to do or anywhere else that she wanted to be except being there next to him in the dark. Suddenly, he spoke without opening his eyes.

“Did you love V?”

“Yes. But I love you more.”

“Why?”

“V would never let me in. I never knew where I stood with him. I could love him all I wanted, but the relationship was unequal from the beginning. I was just a cog in his plans.”

“You weren’t part of the plan. That was always the problem.”

“You and I share a life together. You haven’t hidden anything from me, not even your body. But now, you go out at night… I’m afraid of what it means.”

“Does it seem odd that you have to speak of us separately?” he asked after a moment.

“Is it strange to have to think of yourself that way?” she answered.

“It’s necessary. I can’t explain it any better than that.”

“So be it.” She murmured as she lightly rubbed his temples. He needed to rest.

“I did it for both of us – the warehouse bombing.” He began. “Sometimes, I can’t control the impulses from my former life. You seemed… unhappy in your life and I felt helpless to change that. I felt like I had failed you. I had to find some kind of control again. I thought that by eliminating an obstacle to your professional success I might lighten both of our burdens simultaneously. The road to hell is paved with such intentions. I am sorry, Evey.”

Moments of silence passed and she continued to massage him. She tried desperately to think of the right thing to say; the clearest and most concise way to impart everything that she felt up to that point. Eventually, she decided that to be plain was best.

“I didn’t take Eric up on his offer because… I want to make a stand with you, Charlie. Whatever you are, whoever you have become, I want you with me – always. I can’t imagine my life having much meaning for me without you in it, so I’ll take my chances with you. I accept the risks. Do you understand?” She waited for him to respond but nothing came. He didn’t even move.

“Charlie? What do we do now?”

Her question went unanswered. Even in the darkness she could tell that he had fallen asleep.


	6. Take Me Home, Brother

Charlie was floating in blackness. His skin and his clothes seemed to glow against the absolute dark. How can that be, he thought. Where is the light coming from? He floated for seconds more like an untethered astronaut in the vault of space with his question hanging there. Then someone answered from both inside his head and beyond his body.

“You are dreaming.”

He looked around and saw a figure standing upside down not far from him. He tried to reorient himself and discovered that it was in fact _he_ who was upside down. He swam his way through space towards the figure. His counterpart wore black and had a mask: it was V. When Charlie reached him, he became aware that he, too, was wearing a Guy Fawkes mask. He reached up to undo the straps but V raised his hand to stop him.

“I cannot speak to you unless you are me.”

“What?” said Charlie.

“Leave the mask on.”

“Oh,” he said lowering his hands “Where are we?”

“Inside, outside, all around, and upside down. Everywhere and nowhere, all at once, my brother.” V seemed reluctant to continue unless prodded.

“So, what now?”

“What now, indeed.” Replied V.

“I’m scared, V. For the first time…. I have no plan, no structure – I have no control over anything.”

“Take me home, brother.”

“I can’t become you again, V. There’s no place for your level of determination in this world.”

“But control and focus are what you crave, aren’t they? Isn’t that why I’m still with you? Isn’t that why we blew up that building? Admit it,” V held out his hand in front of him inspecting his gloves “You miss me.”

“I’m deranged – Of course I miss the part of me that made my insanity workable…” Charlie stroked the chin of his mask as if pondering the situation.

“Well, here’s a little tidbit that might help, then: control is an illusion, brother. In the end, all can be rearranged by fate. My refusal to accept this cost me _her_.” Satisfied with the state of his gloves, V crossed his arms in front of him. He suddenly started to float in a circle, pitched from the center of his body.

“Umm, you’re drifting…” Charlie offered helpfully.

“Yes. It happens here – no control, see?”

“She loves me.” Charlie tried to focus again.

“She does.” V said evenly.

“It might get her killed.”

“It might.”

“She’s killing me.”

“You’re killing yourself, don’t blame her. Just admit that you’re scared of her – you’re insane and you’re scared of your normal girlfriend. You can’t figure out what to do with her because you’ve never been normal, and you never will be.” V had floated almost out of sight but his voice was as close to Charlie as if he was standing next to him. “Won’t leaving her kill you?”

“Yes. Undoubtedly.”

“Well then, stop thinking about it: you have to have her. What is the one thing that you CAN alter in this situation? A thing that your “skills” are attuned to?”

Charlie was silent for several minutes, thinking.

“Got it yet? Think, Charlie, THINK!” coaxed V.

“Susan.”

“Yeeessssss. Susan is the key…” V suddenly reappeared directly in front of Charlie.

“The key to what?” 

“The key to you!” V grabbed Charlie violently by his shirt and ripped off his mask. “SUSAN KNOWS EVERYTHING!”

Charlie struggled against V’s grip. V began to cackle in an otherworldly way that made Charlie’s spine turn to glass and trill in sympathy. In the struggle, Charlie ripped off V’s mask and saw his charred visage as it rapidly melted from skin to muscle to bone. Tremendous heat radiated out from him, and Charlie suddenly realized that V’s body had burst into flames. He tried to free himself of the flaming body’s grip but it was tenacious and soon Charlie felt the searing heat as the flames ate away at his flesh too. His glass spine arched against his will, sending jagged spikes of pain throughout his body and then suddenly shattered leaving him helpless and paralyzed against the consuming flames.

“YOU MUST GO HOME, BROTHER!” the netherworld voice screamed from V’s skull just before they both exploded and disappeared into the absolute dark.

\-----------------------------

 

Charlie awoke suddenly with a deep gasp from his dream. The gloom of the room made him pause for a moment as he tried to remember where he was. The room was painted in cooling shades of blue, muting and flattening almost everything to two dimensions. It must be evening, he thought – even the scant light let in through the drapes was blue. He was in Evey’s apartment, on her couch. It was coming back to him now: the events of the previous day, the argument, and his attack. He turned his head and found that Evey had managed to annex a bit of the couch from him and had curled herself around him. Soft blue light illuminated her sleeping face against his chest. The dimness of the light and the dark shadows made her look like the girl that he had met in the alleyway 11 years earlier. Fate had thrown her in his path and, against all logic and probability; here she was still with him. _In the end, all can be rearranged by fate_ , he heard V’s voice come back to him. Charlie looked on her for a long time; in sleep, everything seems perfect. 

He lightly brushed her long curls from her forehead and kissed her, making his lips tingle from the warmth of her skin. She blinked and opened her eyes drowsily while reaching out a hand to gently stroke his cheek. As sleep cleared from her, she propped her chin on his chest and stared at him as he was sheltered by the dark blue shadows of the room. Wordlessly, he reached for her – his eyes flashing silver as they caught the light – and kissed her softly yet deeply on the mouth. His hands cupped her face and drew her to him as her lips parted and his tongue explored her. She moaned with unexpected satisfaction that made his stomach flutter, and she raised herself higher to make him strain less. Her hands reached for his face as she answered his kiss with equal intensity. He lay back and let her play with his mouth, as she wanted; he was overwhelmed by her response and lost in a sea of sensations. Every part of him wanted to know her. Every inch of him wanted to feel as his mouth did. She breathlessly ended the kiss and seemed a bit dazed by the whole event. He saw his chance and took it.

“Evey, I want you. Not just now, but for good.”

She leaned down into his neck and began to kiss it in nipping, ticklish circles. He became momentarily breathless and closed his eyes in order to luxuriate in the sensation of it. But he wasn’t done yet and so resurrected his sense.

“But I can’t do this if there’s a chance that you’ll leave me. Nothing about this will be easy… but if you promise me that you’ll never abandon me – no matter what happens – I’ll do the same. You know that I’ve never broken my word.”

She didn’t respond keeping her face in the crook of his neck, but no longer kissing him. A cold stone settled in his stomach as the seconds of silence stretched out before them.

“What do you think? Can you make that vow?” he asked almost without breath.

Against his neck, her head nodded ‘yes’.

“You promise to be with me always?” he asked again disbelievingly.

Again, she nodded ‘yes’ against him. She raised herself upright to look at him. He thought that he saw a glimmer in her eyes like tears, but the light was too faint to be sure. His hands reached for her face again.

“You didn’t need to think about it?” His tone was more incredulous than he had intended.

She shook her head ‘no’ in response. 

“It’s the easiest thing that you’ve ever asked of me.” She said quietly “Ask me as often as you like – now or years from now – my answer will always stay the same.”

The stone in his stomach shot directly upwards to his heart as it beat hopelessly out of control. He grabbed her and violently pulled her down on top of him, catching her mouth with his as they descended. He became rock hard and pushed himself against her in joyous anticipation of the moments to come. He thought to himself that if he died in that very instant, though denied of some pleasure, it might be a perfect death. 

He left her mouth hot and breathless as he hungrily sought out her neck alternately biting and sucking his way down to her breasts. Her own breath came raggedly as she suddenly pulled away from him and lifted off her shirt for him. He ran his coarse hands up and down her ribcage admiringly, and when he looked up at her, he saw her smiling at him while she laughed and softly called out his name. He was probably grinning like an idiot but he did not care: he held in his shaking hands the means to his complete happiness, and he would not let a stupid facial expression diminish that. 

“Evey, you’re so… beautiful. I hardly know where to begin.”

“Well,” she winked coquettishly “For starters, lose the pants.”

She leapt off the couch and giggled, simultaneously wriggling out of her skirt, bra and panties. It all happened so quickly that Charlie was kind of stunned. As she stood in the failing evening light naked and glowing, he tried to etch every curve into his memory as if he would never see any of this again. She reached for his hand.

“C’mon, Charlie, don’t make me beg. I’ve been waiting over a decade for this moment. Pants – off!”

He jumped off the couch instantly and dispensed with his pants faster than Evey thought humanly possible. She laughed again, but he caught her up in his arms and kissed her, silencing her against him. He pulled her in closer and she felt the warm pressing of his erection against her thigh. Instincts took over and she moaned with longing as wetness signaled her anticipation. Her moan made him harder still and he pressed into her even more creating a delicious hot friction as their bodies denied each other of air. A wetness of his own mimicked hers and his desire to be inside her became an undeniable imperative. He reached under her buttocks and raised her up over his hips, leaving a smear of her desire along the length of him. He turned and threw her down on the couch, and took her former place on top, sliding her thighs open with an eager hand. His head moved to her breasts and he gently sealed his lips around a nipple at the exact moment that his curious finger found her center and started an achingly slow circle around it. A second wetness found her and she moaned in a way that he had never heard from anyone before. He sucked her breast harder and she arched her back, causing her breast to pillow softly around his mouth. He moved his finger deeper within her and released her breast, now resting his head on her chest and concentrating fully on his digital manipulations and controlling his inescapable desire to come right there and then. 

He moaned her name over and over as she wiggled her hips and helped him find a pleasing rhythm for her. For her own part, Evey was well past words. She reached her hands out and found his head on her chest where she slowly and lightly traced intricate patterns over his neck, around his ears and across his bald head. He breathed in deeply and took in every scent on her: her shampoo, her skin lotion, the vague scent of her perfume, but under it all the musky dampness of her arousal. He moved his head between her breasts and breathed in once more before it all became too much for him. 

“I can’t wait any longer…”

He raised himself up, removed his hand from her and drove himself into her deep and hard. She cried out in surprise and sensation, so much so that he thought he had hurt her and hesitated.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped “Again!”

He grabbed her hips and drove into her again bringing a sharp cry from both of them. He felt himself tighten all over and the feeling, in any other situation, might have registered as pain. He plunged in again and again, eventually finding a slowly increasing rhythm that mirrored his body’s growing tension. Evey adjusted her position beneath him so that he could reach even more deeply into her, which pleased them both. Her hands went to his hips and guided him back and forth, so that he knew exactly what she needed and when. He moved himself to a higher angle and when he drove into her then, she felt the cascading of all of her barriers falling at once. Her fingers dug into his ass as she forced him to repeat the movement faster and faster until the falling barriers became an all-consuming explosion within her center. A flood of wetness slicked their seam as she screamed out his name and arched her back to prolong the orgasm. As her hips bucked and her thigh muscles twitched around him, he felt his own final act coming to a close. With one hand on her hip and one wrapped around the small of her back, he leaned deeply into her chest and pumped violently until his own cry of release came to him.

They lay connected and entwined, breathing shakily for several minutes. When he finally left her, she whimpered at the loss of feeling him within her. She made room for him on the narrow couch and he wrapped himself around her feeling at peace for the first time. He reached for her face and kissed her tenderly. Pulling away, he saw that she smiled at him. Once again he thought that he saw a glimmer of tears but the joy in her laugh made him think that it was something else. He paused and watched her in the deep shadows.

“Is it always like this?” he asked quietly.

“I honestly don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.” She kissed the end of his nose.

“You’re mine now, you know.” His voice was all gravity.

“I’ve been yours for years, Charlie. There’s no getting around it – we belong to each other.”

They reached for each other in the deep blue again; their bodies setting out to reaffirm what pale words could never manage. Something had come to an end, and something new had sprung up in its place. Wherever they were going now, they were traveling there together.


	7. Show and Tell

Charlie awoke alone in Evey’s bed. At some point in the night, the two had made the decision that attempting to sleep and romp on the narrow living room couch was a hardship that they both could do without. He had gratefully drifted into a deep sleep at Evey’s side after he had tossed her about the bed for a while. He rose feeling elated and sore, but delightfully so. His only disappointment was not finding her beside him.

He wrapped a blanket around his waist – having no clue where his clothes had disappeared to – and wandered into the main apartment. He found Evey fully clothed, coffee in hand talking animatedly over the phone.

“No, I won’t. Argue ‘til you’re blue in the face, Eric…. Why do you even BOTHER trying to alter my positions anymore! You should know better…”

She began gesticulating wildly to emphasize her point, which Charlie found slightly ridiculous and immensely charming at the same time. He leaned against the bedroom doorframe and smiled at her. She was so engrossed in her conversation that she didn’t see him.

“Eric. Eric, don’t… ERIC! Enough! I’m coming, and that’s all there is to it! It’s bad enough that you’ve banned me from the office…”

She turned and caught sight of Charlie. Her eyes flowed over his naked torso from the wide set shoulders, down over his well-defined chest and abdominals to the narrow waist now accentuated by a blanket from her bed. His arms were folded across him as leaned in the doorway. His body shook slightly as he chuckled at her display, and his eyes flashed as they caught the light. She felt heat in his stare and it hit her like a wall. His smile faded and he straightened up where he stood. She felt pulled across the room to him, and even before she had thought about it, she stood before him. Eric still ranted on the other end of the phone. She made some non-committal noises into the speaker as Charlie softly stroked the side of her face. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. Finally she removed the receiver from her ear, reached forward and kissed him warmly.

“Good morning.” She whispered.

“Mmmm, it is.”

Eric’s voice crackled from the phone - _Evey? Evey, are you still there? Goddamn it!_ She returned to her conversation but her eyes remained on him.

“Yes, Eric. No, I said no. Fine. And email me those files that I asked for. Yes, see you tonight.” She rang off.

They kissed again, this time more deeply, as they wrapped their arms around each other. He held her, not prepared to let her go just yet. He felt like he was on fire being so close to her once more.

“What did Eric want?” he said while nuzzling her ear.

“I was just checking in and requesting some work – I don’t want projects left unattended just because I’m not there. Then, Eric tried to talk me out of the ball for the U.S. President tonight at Downing Street.”

“But the ball’s on Wednesday…” he said, switching to the other ear.

“Today _is_ Wednesday, my love. You’ve been asleep for a whole day.”

He pulled away looking slightly alarmed. 

“Your body needed to rest, Charlie. I thought about waking you – believe me – but I figured that the longer you remained still, the better for your wound.” She pressed her hand reassuringly on the center of his chest. “You body takes what it needs, and it obviously needed to sleep through yesterday.”

“My body would like to take something else right now…” he bent to her neck and skimmed its length with breath, making her shiver in his arms. 

“Ohhh, no doubt, you fiend – but we have things to do today…” she whispered, reluctantly pushing him away.

“Fiend?” he said in mock dismay.

“Yes, _fiend_ , that’s you. Come along, fiend. I’ll fix you some breakfast and tell you the news.”

Charlie was famished. Over an omelet, grilled vegetables, toast and several cups of tea, Evey told him what she had discovered in the last 24 hours. 4 of the 5 assailants from the ministry had died on the scene. 1 made it into surgery but died on the table never regaining consciousness and therefore unable to offer up any useful information about his organization or their plans. Eric had told Evey that the name “Susan” rang a distant bell for him, so he did some digging at the London Archive and found several Susans related to early incarnations of ultra right-wing political groups prior to Norsefire. Some were dead, some had “disappeared” into camps, much like Evey’s parents had, never to be heard from again, and, a few simply turned into dead ends. Evey took this last group of names and conducted an online search using what she called a “lily pad” search-bot of her own devising: it followed tendrils of informational links that only tangentially had connections to the original search subject, and followed them through all of their subsequent links to see if there were any commonalities that could form the framework of a lost life. She explained it like it was the root system of a tree, and she was looking for incongruous root lumps. 

“I take it that you found a lump.” He polished off his fourth cup of tea. Evey started to wonder if he had a hollow leg.

“I did.” Her eyes brightened conspiratorially. “There was a Susan – no first name or initial – who appeared to have strong ties to Sutler and Creedy when they were young and idealistic. It seems that Sutler and Susan went to university together; Creedy was just a cretin that they picked up along the way. At any rate, Susan and Sutler were tied at the hip for a while but there’s no record of him ever being a member of Norsefire, he never held a position in the government as so many of Sutler’s other friends did, and, there’s absolutely no record of him after the Reclamation.”

“Him? You think that Susan’s a man?”

“Well, _that’s_ what Eric would call a hunch. There’s no evidence either way, but considering Sutler’s ultra-conservative views and anti-feminist policies while in power, I’m assuming that he wouldn’t have started his political career taking direction from a woman.”

“More’s the pity. He didn’t know what he was missing.” Charlie’s eyes flashed over the rim of his empty teacup.

“Settle down,” she smiled at him “There’s more. Sutler was a political science major in university. Susan was registered in the biochemistry department.”

Charlie went very still. V’s words came back to him: _SUSAN KNOWS EVERYTHING!_ If this Susan individual was after him, and if a part of his patchwork personality remembered this person, then this whole scenario wasn’t about politics at all. It was about what had begun, for him, at Larkhill. He thought that he understood the grand scheme behind the medical experimentation at the camps, and the purpose of St. Mary’s Virus after reading Delia’s journal. But what if she, too, had only been privy to her part in the plan? By killing everyone involved, he had cut off the serpent’s head, but he had also silenced the sources of information that could help them now. He thought that he knew everything: there had been no need to spare anyone’s life. His head started to ache mildly and he absently rubbed his temples as he mulled over these thoughts.

“Charlie?” Evey looked concerned.

“It’s alright, petal.” He sighed “If there’s no record of Susan after the Reclamation, how can we be certain that he, or she, didn’t die in the interim? We could be chasing a ghost.”

“We could, but I don’t think so.” She pulled a sheet from a stack of papers nearby. It was a screen print of a biochem company’s homepage. “ _This_ company was one of the dozens that retained its government operating license after the Reclamation. Most of the licensees were personal friends of Sutler or high-ranking party members, and all of them had ties to St. Mary’s patents or other medical supplies related to the virus. Every one _but this one_ …” she paused a moment “The company’s name contains the penname that Susan wrote under for the university newspaper.”

She pushed the page across the table to him: Vervain MedCom.

“Vervain is a flower…” she began.

“It was said to staunch Christ’s wounds of crucifixion when he descended from the cross.” Charlie continued. “In eastern Europe, it was used as a ward of protection against all manner of folklorish ghouls. It has soothing herbal properties much like Valerian Root.”

“Yes… that’s right.” Evey paused and studied his face.

He stared at the page not seeing, as if in a trance. He finally pushed the page back to her, and when he looked up the face her, he had regained his composure. He did not want to frighten her; that would not help at all.

“You are a marvelous researcher, Evey. It is amazing what you have discovered in 24 hours.” He smiled at her. “Have you told Eric any of this?”

She slid her hand across the table and gripped his. She wanted to ask him what he was feeling, but knew that he would tell her whatever would ease her concern, which was not necessarily the truth. She would rather not know than have an obvious lie hang between them. Perhaps he read this in her face because a wave of relief swept over him and he squeezed her hand back.

“No, Eric was too busy trying to talk me out of the ball tonight. As IF I wouldn’t show up and make sure that Eric got some face time with President Daniels so that he could discuss the lifting of the trade embargo! I drafted the proposal, after all! The PM is a boob – if Eric doesn’t manage to get the ball rolling with the Americans, our economy will stall. Christ! I can’t wait until Eric becomes Prime Minister…”

Evey’s passion for her job was something that Charlie was secretly very proud of. She had a sharp mind and the bloody-minded determination of a true believer. When V had met Evey, he would never have guessed at the depths of her passions and beliefs. Perhaps they rose to the surface as a result of their time together, or perhaps she might have become this person anyway, without his help. However fate may have orchestrated it, Evey had taken over V’s mantle with the same fervor; just without the knives and mask. And, she was doing it legally, which was infinitely more frustrating. Charlie’s admiration for her knew no bounds.

“Well then, we can tell him tonight, I suppose.” He rose from the table and took the used plates into the kitchen. “Evey, what _have_ you done with my clothes, darling? I can’t keep walking around in bed linens…”

“Are you sure that you should come tonight? To the ball, I mean?” Evey ignored his inquiry about his clothes. “It’s been on the schedule for months – everyone knows that I’ll be there and, by extension, that _you’ll_ be there. It might be an obvious place to make another attempt on you. Security at these things is never what it should be…”

Evey bit her lip as he turned from the sink to face her.

“I’m your security. I go where you go.” He said plainly.

“Yes, but considering the circumstances… Eric has already arranged for an S.S.B. detail for me tonight. Thoroughly vetted, not like the agent at the ministry on Monday. I’ll be completely safe.”

“Do you not want me to go?” he sounded offended.

“I want you to be safe!”

“Well, if they can get to me at a restricted political function, they can undoubtedly get to me here sitting around waiting for you to come home.” His response was edgy and clipped.

“THAT makes me feel so much better!” Evey’s frustration grew.

“I’m coming along.”

“Fine.” Evey muttered.

“Fine.” He grumbled.

“FINE!” She was now reduced to trying to get in the last word.

“Good.” He finally stated, pissing her off further.

“You’ll need a suit.” She said icily. “Do you have something appropriate?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” He responded in kind. “It’s Italian. Tailored. _Perfect_.”

And with that, he untied the covering around his waist letting it fall to the floor, turned on his heel and left the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

\-------------------------

Charlie spent the remainder of the day cooped up in his apartment thinking. The occasional creaking of the floorboards overhead broke his thoughts as Evey moved around her flat. His heart leapt every time he heard the sound, and then immediately sunk as he resented that his current situation was interfering with their new relationship. While their living and working arrangements over the past 5 years had provided them with a healthy dose of intimacy, he had to admit that the introduction of sex into the mix had thrown him completely. It was as if they were meeting each other, again, for the first time with all of the misunderstandings and edgy hesitations that come with that. But they had known each other for so long – how was it possible to feel this way with someone who was so familiar? And never mind that he could not concentrate at all when he was physically near her – all he could think about was sex. He felt like a child and an idiot.

As for the Susan situation, he worried that the more that they delved into the mystery, the more unpleasant the findings, which could have devastating repercussions on his existence. He had to source out the threat and eliminate it, but if in doing that he risked his own sanity and lost Evey, wouldn’t it be the same as dying? Doom seemed inextricably tied to both options, and he hoped that a third one would present itself in time.

While dressing for the ball, he thought over the silly tiff that he had with Evey earlier in the day. He realized that he was not angry at her concern or her request – it was prompted by love, after all – he was angry that his safety, which was never a concern before, was now no longer in his capable hands. He once again felt the cold shiver of fear within him, and the shame of helplessness. He must wrest back some control over his existence. He must not forget who he was and what he was capable of doing.

After fiddling with his tie for 15 minutes, he ceded the knot’s victory and went upstairs to Evey’s apartment. Should be knock? Should he walk in like he owned the place? This was getting complicated. He chose to knock. Evey answered the door almost instantly, as if she had been standing on the other side waiting for him to call.

“Hi.” She said.

“Hi.” He answered dumbly.

She wore a floor length gown of imperial blue silk that clung to her curves modestly. She appeared almost at eye level with him, so she must have been wearing considerable heels. However, when she moved there was no hesitation or awkwardness, as if she had always been 3 inches taller and had merely been hiding it from him. She wore an iridescent wrap about her shoulders that hid the upper half of her dress but accentuated the long strands of golden brown curls arranged down her back, held away from her face by a few glittering pins. He had never seen her like this.

“Beautiful.” was all he could manage.

She giggled and looked him over. He was not wearing a tuxedo, as was standard for these occasions, but a black, trim fitted 4-button suit that enhanced his long lines and narrow waist. He wore a charcoal dress shirt underneath decorated with a dark blue tie that had iridescent flecks in it. The suit made him all height and sharp angles, instead of his usual silhouette that was imposing because of his physical fitness and his scars. He was uniquely handsome, and she was sure that more than one woman would notice it tonight regardless of his deformities. She was delighted to discover that his tie and her wrap matched. Great minds….

“You were right – that suit is perfect.” She murmured while straightening his tie. “You look absolutely incredible.”

He continued to stare dumbly.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry about earlier, and that I’m glad… no, _relieved_ that you’re coming tonight, Charlie.”

“I’m sorry too. I wasn’t angry with you – I don’t take to the backseat well…” he said while caressing her cheek.

“Are you okay? You seem a little, umm, stiff.”

“It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.” He murmured darkly as he leaned to kiss her.

“Fiend!” she whispered as she caught his lips with hers.

What he had intended as an affectionate peck quickly turned into an intense exploration. His body was electrified by her nearness and the warmth of her body trapped under the cool silk of her dress pricked at his fingers as he caressed her waist, her back and her ribs. She let out a small moan of contentment as she wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him closer to her. As their kissing intensified, he stepped into her forcing her backwards, slowly, towards the apartment doorway. Halfway across the threshold, Evey reached out her arms and grasped the frame on either side, and pulled away from his hungry mouth.

“Wait!” she was breathless “We _have_ to make an appearance at this party. I’ve put up such a fight about it – I can’t very well call Eric up and say that I can’t make it because my assistant and I are fucking like rabbits!”

He reached for her again, not listening.

“I’ll be quick…”

“You’d bloody well better not!” she said fighting off his hands “Work first, then we can play – and, boy, am I going to play with you…”

She ducked out from underneath him and made it into the hallway. She smiled and beckoned him with a curled finger as she backed her way towards the front entrance and the street below. 

“Come with me, demon, and I promise you delights aplenty before the dawn…”

“Promises, promises.” He growled as he chased her, laughing, through the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote:
> 
> “It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge” – Hamlet, act III, sc. II, line 244.


	8. Green-Eyed Monsters

Charlie and Evey arrived at 10 Downing Street fashionably late. Most of the guests had arrived but had bottlenecked at the coat check, so the formalities had not yet commenced. 

“I could have been quick AND we still would have made it.” Charlie grumbled, helping Evey remove her wrap.

“Shhh! _Here_ , you are my bodyguard and my assistant, not my lover.”

Charlie felt momentarily slighted and was about to say so, when the removal of Evey’s wrap fully revealed her dress to him and he developed a new problem. The dress was backless and stunningly low cut, ending just under the small of her back. It was also strapless, and therefore required a rigid bodice to hold its shape in front. This created an impressive display of décolletage that moved sinuously with the bodice. The overall effect was of a petit, fit frame undulating under a cage of blue silk. It was not overtly bare, but very sensual, and Charlie felt every man’s eye fall on her the moment that she was revealed. He felt sudden hostility flow through him as he held her wrap, knowing that he would not be able to reasonably fend off potential suitors in his current incarnation as “bodyguard”. She wasn’t 4 feet away from him before an obsequious drone from the ministry swept her away to Eric, being sure to guide her with a hand on her back, Charlie noted miserably. It was just another aspect of being merely a man, not a killer, that he was having trouble adjusting to.

Charlie followed her at a distance trying to keep his mind on his immediate job of protection. He took up position at the entrance to the main ballroom while Evey crossed the crowded floor to Eric. Eric’s eyes boggled slightly but he quickly recovered and kissed Evey on both cheeks.

“Evey, you look absolutely stunning, my dear. Every woman in this room will have daggers for you tonight! If I was 20 years younger…” he held her out at arm’s length for further appraisal.

“If you were 20 years younger, Eric, Marjorie wouldn’t let you leave the house!” she winked knowingly.

“True.” He smiled. “Well, you’re just in time: Daniels is about to make a little speech and then we’ll have a little moment with him. You missed P.M. Smitherham’s ponderous opening remarks – lucky you – we should really loan his office one of our speech writers, it’s just embarrassing.”

“Let him stick with his own writers – it makes you look so much smarter by comparison.”

“You only want me to _look_ smart?” he raised his eyebrows in shock “Most days I _look_ like I’m a career drunk on the dole…”

“Oh, Eric!” Evey swatted at him affectionately.

He smiled and slung his arm around her shoulders giving her a reassuring hug. The ballroom was crowded, but out of the corner of his eye Eric clearly saw Charlie glaring at them. Scowls on security officers were standard issue, and Charlie was no different, but something in the manner of his stare forced Eric to pay attention to it. Eric looked down at Evey who was taking in the general splendor.

“What’s wrong with Charlie?”

Evey stiffened reflexively for a moment in Eric’s grasp and then turned to face Charlie’s direction. His stare felt like laser sights penetrating the crush of people, targeting her. A heat slowly crept up her body from her toes to her cheeks, as if he were right there next to her. His eyes softened toward her and she raised a hand to her blushing cheek as if to cover his unseen hand that cupped it from across the room. The feeling was so powerful that she found it unsettling. She had experienced a kind of electric charge around Charlie in the past, but now, given their new intimacy, it had increased to a whole new level. She felt embarrassed that she was ill equipped to deal with this new intensity from him, and she was more than a bit worried that sex was coming between them and the strong relationship that they already had. She lowered her eyes to regain her composure and turned back to Eric.

“I don’t know.”

Eric watched the exchange and then looked at Evey’s face. He was silent for a moment.

“You know that he’s in love with you, don’t you?”

Evey gasped. Eric stared at her face with more scrutiny.

“Of course you do – you’ve always known. But something’s changed, hasn’t it?” His eyes widened. “You love him too. Oh, Evey, _finally!_ ”

He embraced her again in congratulations.

“I’m so happy for you, dear.”

“Really?” she said in disbelief.

“Yes! Perhaps now you can finally put your period with V behind you for good.”

Evey froze at the statement but Eric didn’t notice as the crowd cheered the entrance of the American President. President Daniels spoke warmly, if briefly, about the continuation of Anglo-American relations, made some un-funny jokes about language gaffes and then some colourful remarks on cow punching, before toasting his host and glad-handing the crowd. He eventually made his way towards Eric, who pounced on the brief opportunity that presented itself. He stressed the need for more aggressive border control negotiation, which was hindering trade and harming both of their economies, and proffered the option of a “safe list” of goods that could be traded seamlessly between the two countries, thus lubricating the cogs of further diplomatic concessions down the road.

“It’s all in this memo, if you care to peruse it later at your leisure.” Eric offered Evey’s policy memo to him.

“I must admit that I’m surprised that this didn’t come through the P.M.’s office – or through proper channels,” President Daniels paused briefly at the etiquette miscue “But I am happy to consider opening up our trade restrictions, if the British government would commit to the same considerations on their end. Are you in a position to offer that to me at this time, Minister Finch?”

“I am, Mr. President.” Eric stared him squarely in the eye, knowing that the southern politician liked sizing up a man’s character through plain dealings.

“Well, alright then!” Daniels smiled a wide, white American smile that probably liked dynamite on TV. “But where are my manners! Who is this ravishing creature, Finch?”

“This is Evelyn Hammond – one of my associates.” Eric made introductions while Daniels kissed Evey’s hand. “She drafted the memo that you’re holding, as a matter of fact…”

“My! Beautiful AND brainy! But you grow ‘em like that over here, don’t ya?” His accent was becoming more drawn by the second. “Do you like whiskey, little lady?”

“Umm, well, certainly Mr. President…” Evey said awkwardly trying to retrieve her hand.

“Please, call me Jackson, at least for tonight.” He winked. “We make some fine whiskey where I come from, Evelyn. A brand that I’m particularly, ahem…. fond of. I’ll send you over a case if you save a dance this evening for me…”

“Of course, Jackson. At your convenience…” she bowed slightly as he winked again and moved on to the next guest in line.

“Whiskey?” Evey whispered to Eric.

“Jack Daniels. Get it? He’s already sent 4 cases of it to my office – dreadful stuff. Might Charlie find a use for it?”

Evey was certain that Charlie could find a use for it, but _how_ , exactly, probably wasn’t what Eric had in mind: disinfectant, engine de-greaser, Molotov cocktail fuel… At that moment, the band began to play and couples moved to the floor to dance and make merry. Eric had the first dance with Evey during which they discussed the interlude with Daniels and the next possible steps to be taken. Eric was careful to hold Evey respectfully as he felt Charlie’s stare edge into his vision again. Poor bugger, Eric thought, tonight must be murder on him. Eric was not fond of dancing, so when a series of interested partners offered to cut in, he eventually capitulated, surrendering Evey to the whims of the dance floor. 

Charlie watched the events unfold with growing irritation. The American President had practically fallen over himself to drool at Evey, and it had taken much of his restraint to shackle his desire to cross that floor and give the guy a sound thumping. There was not much for him to do save stare at Evey; the crowd was the usual mix of politicos and social hob-knobbers, even the S.S.B. agents had to stifle their yawns of boredom. There wasn’t a threat in sight. Evey danced amiably with Eric, who seemed very aware of Charlie’s attention suddenly. But then she was whisked about by a series of eager young beaus with dreadful footwork. Evey was a fair dancer, but seemed to suffer in the hands of weak partners – her spirits seemed to be flagging when President Daniels slithered up to her. He pulled her snuggly to him as they lurched around the dance floor, making sure to place a hand just inside her dress at the small of her back. Evey appeared to be uncomfortable but continued to smile and make idle conversation. Daniels seemed to be addressing her breasts for most of the chat. The song ended but Daniels refused to relinquish her, and wrapped himself even more securely around her for the next, slower number. His head bent into her neck and Evey twitched slightly. She tried to distance herself politely but Daniels held her close and folded his leading arm into them so that it rubbed obviously against her breast. The display seemed lost on those surrounding them on the floor; either that, or no one dared to make a scene involving the President of the United States. Evey looked around for a potential partner to cut in, but none made a move. As the waltz ended and Daniels appeared to be ready to take advantage of a samba, Charlie had had enough. 

“Sir, may I have the honour of the lady?” It seemed that Charlie had appeared from out of nowhere.

Daniels turned and prepared to use his privilege to fend off the interloper, but was stopped in his tracks by Charlie’s hot silver glare. Though immaculately dressed, Charlie’s scars and impressive frame were still clearly intimidating. Even if Daniels hadn’t been moved by Charlie’s appearance, he would have certainly ceded Evey to the demonic expression that Charlie now wore. Daniels unwrapped himself and bid adieu, as Charlie stepped in without missing a beat. 

“Thank you.” Evey breathed.

“How could you let him manhandle you like that!” Charlie growled as he effortlessly moved them across the dance floor. “It was disgusting!”

“What would you have me do, exactly? Knee him in the balls?” The conversation paused long enough for her to spin out and then back into Charlie’s arms. “He’s the President of the damned United States, Charlie!”

“So, that makes it acceptable for him to treat you like a whore in public?”

“A what?!” she hissed as he dipped her.

“You heard me. Perhaps that was your intention for the evening dressed as you are, and allowing yourself to be passed around like a tray of canapés.”

“Watch yourself, Charlie!”

“Or what? You’ll fire me?” he slammed her body back into him from a spin with too much force, causing their bodies to crash together at the hips and the breasts. “Is it some kind of strange titillation for you to flaunt yourself to others in front of me? Do you think I’m so easily cowed?”

“Charlie, why are you doing this!” Her anger was now chased by disappointment, as she thought back to her previous concerns about their intensity together.

“This has all just been a little adventure for you, hasn’t it? Your colourful, deformed “back door man”! Well, I have _some_ pride left, Eve – I won’t play! Make a spectacle of yourself in front of your colleagues if you wish, but don’t think that I’ll pay you one second’s attention after this day!”

The music came to an end, and those watching clapped appreciatively for the spirited dance unaware of the hateful emotions driving it. Charlie glared at Evey while holding her in his arms. She drove an icy glare right back at him.

“You’re a fucking jackass. I’m done.” She turned on her heel and walked towards the entrance, leaving him on the dance floor alone.

Charlie followed her, fighting through the crowd, and caught up with her at the coat check.

“Where are you going?” he growled.

“My work here is done – I am going home.” She turned to face him with tears stinging her eyes. “ _You_ may go wherever you please!”

He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her this way and that, trying to find a secluded corner. He finally settled on a hallway off the main entrance that seemed to lead only to a walk-in closet.

“You can’t go out alone.”

“Don’t pretend to give a shit after what you just said to me on the dance floor!” She raised her voice now that they were away from the crowd so that he would not mistake her tone any further. The tears would no longer guard themselves, and fell freely down her cheeks.

“Evey…” he warned.

“I must’ve been mad to think that this would work! You haven’t changed: you _still_ don’t trust me – all you know how to do is CONTROL!” She shook with rage under his grip and he softened it, realizing that he was probably hurting her. “It never fucking occurred to you that I wore this dress for you, did it?! So that you would know what you had that no other man could touch! If I flaunted anything this evening it was the fact that I utterly belonged to YOU, and I was proud of it! Proud until now, that is.”

She drew her breath and tried to calm herself hoping that it would stem the flow of tears. Charlie let her arm fall away from him and slumped slightly.

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know THAT?” he said.

“It was pretty bloody obvious to everyone else! It’s normal behavior! Even Eric commented on it and congratulated me…”

“But the President…”

“The President was drunk on whiskey! Plus, it’s part of my job to schmooze with odious individuals. If I hauled off and kicked every shitheel who offended me in the bollocks, I’d never get ANYONE to do ANYTHING!”

“I’m sorry, Evey… I’m sorry.” He sighed.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it – you called me A WHORE! A FUCKING WHORE, IN FRONT OF MY STAFF! MY SUPERIOR! YOU GODDAMNED PRICK!” 

She was letting it all go now, and it was getting loud. Charlie looked desperately around and then opened the walk-in closet, threw her in and followed shutting the door behind them. They were plunged into near darkness. Charlie pushed her into the back of the closet where she hit a wall, cushioned by a mass of fur coats. He pressed against her to keep her still.

“What are you doing!” she yelled.

“Shhh, Evey! Someone will hear…”

“I don’t give a flying fuck WHO hears!” she continued.

“I do.” He said as he fought against her. “I’m sorry, Evey – I _am_ a complete jackass. I’m so sorry, please, I didn’t understand you. All I could see was every man licking you with his gaze; every man wanting to touch you, kiss you, feel you. They all wanted what should only be mine. MINE!” He leaned into her more and she felt his teeth graze her throat in threat, as his breath signaled his passion.

“I am not normal, Evey, and I do not understand how to react. What I have felt in the past 3 days has overwhelmed me – I am lost. I am all at sea over you.” His hands left her arms and began to stroke her sides as she ceased to struggle. In the darkness, he couldn’t see her face, but he buried his head in her hair anyway, ashamed of his faults. He breathed in her perfume and sighed longingly. His hands reached to curve around the form of her bodice.

“Oh, Evey,” he whispered sadly into her neck “Forgive me.”

Her hands came to life with violence as she fumbled with his jacket. Finally, letting out a yell of frustration, she tore the jacket open hearing buttons fly over the closet floor.

“Evey!” he gasped.

She yanked the jacket over his shoulders and down to the ground. Next she ripped at his fly.

“What are you doing!”

“Shut up, Charlie!” she hissed.

“But…”

“Just shut up and fuck me!” 

She freed him and felt him get firm at her touch. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached down to her hemline and pulled it up above her hips. Using one hand to gather her dress, he freed the other to wrap inside her pantyhose and rip downwards with a satisfying shredding noise. Evey let out a startled meep but then sighed with delight as her newly bare bottom was raised by his hand and pressed between him and the fur lined wall of the closet. The animal fur was wonderfully cool and slick against her skin. She felt the heat of his groin press into her, and suddenly she was trapped between intense heat and soothing chill. He groaned as he struggled to balance their weight and place her in the best position to penetrate her. His teeth grazed her throat again, but it was only a tease; he sank his teeth into her breast, like a vampire marking his prey. She cried out and arched herself against him, feeling a trickle of wetness warm her thighs as she did. She grabbed him by the ears and pushed his face away from its target, trying to see any part of him in the dark. She took his mouth in hers and tasted the fresh blood that lingered there. Coppery and warm, she ached to taste his, and responded in kind savagely biting his lower lip and sucking the wound gently. Charlie tried to pull back, but she held him close. He groaned and wrapped a hand in her long curls, then suddenly pulled her head back. He tasted blood, both hers and his, as he stood staring at her and gasping in the gloom.

“Do it now!” she rasped.

He pushed into her and felt her shiver as she slid down his shaft taking him in completely. She was marvelously warm and wet. He held her to the wall by her waist and backed out, re-entering her with greater brutality; this time her pushed her up along the fur coats for more friction. She let out a startled yelp at the sensation. He backed out of her again, slower this time, and was rewarded with a cry of anguish from her as they separated. He leaned into her neck and smiled against it.

“Do you still want me to leave you? To walk away and do as I please?” he murmured.

“You demon! Finish this!” she gasped, “Take me home and show me that you love me. But, if you doubt my honour again,” she grabbed his face in her hand, pinching his wounded lip “I’ll make you useless as a man for the rest of your days!”

She tilted his chin and bit him under the jaw line sharply. He cried out and rammed into her without preamble. Evey wrapped her legs around his hips for grip as he steadied them by propping one knee beneath them both. Charlie abandoned all finesse and began to pulse within her, increasing in speed until they both leaned into each other and gave themselves over to their impending climax. He came first clutching her close to him as he slammed her into the back closet wall over and over. She followed, digging her nails into the back of his neck. Both yelled out as if they had just been sliced open, and then slid down the wall to the closet floor taking several coats off their hangers and chunks of plaster with them.

Evey landed with an awkward crash onto something hard and triangular. In her post-coital delirium, she felt beneath her and thought that she had unfortunately landed on some poor guest’s handbag. 

“Ouch!” she grumbled.

“Are you alright?” he whispered between breaths.

The door to the closet opened and filled the small space with blinding light from the hallway. A tall, silhouette of a man stood in the threshold. He raised his hands immediately and pointed the form of a handgun at Charlie’s back.

“What luck! I caught the devil after all!” the voice sounded amazed at his good fortune. “Plowing the coat check girl? Well, I hope that she was good, ‘cause there won’t be none of that where you’re going, mutant fucker. Get up!”

Evey felt inside the handbag that she was sitting on only to discover that it wasn’t a handbag after all. Recognizing its contents, she waited to make her move while trying to calm her panic. Charlie blocked her view of the man in the doorway. She would have to find a way around him, though he would probably fight the effort.

“I’d given up on you, mutant – thought that you’d bowed out of this little ‘do’, but then I heard the screaming and banging coming from down ‘ere. What a row you two were makin’!” The figure waved his gun up and down at them. “C’mon! Get the fuck up! Haven’t got all night – I’m taking you ta hell!”

Evey reached under Charlie’s armpit and pointed the bag at the silhouette.

“You first!” she hissed as she pulled the trigger and the bag exploded around them.


	9. Few Options

The sound of the gunshot in the close quarters of the closet was deafening. By the time that the muzzle flash shadows had lessened on Evey’s eyelids and the bag remnants had settled around them, Charlie was on his feet with his pants securely fastened. Evey’s shot had been a bit wide of her target, and the assailant had fallen, then regained his footing and fled. Charlie was set to pursue when he turned back to tend to Evey.

“I’m fine. Go!” she whispered, and he was gone.

Evey wasn’t alone long, but it was time enough to right her dress and hide her shredded nylons. She was claiming Charlie’s suit jacket when the S.S.B. agents appeared, guns drawn, with Eric in tow.

“Evey! Are you all right? What happened!” he exclaimed, fighting his way to the front of eight agents. “Put away your guns! Evey, you’re bleeding…”

Eric pointed to her breast and she quickly flung Charlie’s jacket over her shoulders and held it closed in front of her. She avoided his eyes and didn’t answer his questions; she just stood shivering in the ruined closet with a smoking gun at her feet. Eric’s face darkened.

“Where’s Charlie?” he asked.

\-----------------------------

Where had that little bitch found that gun, he thought. His abdomen was killing him and he knew that he was bleeding badly. The running wasn’t helping either; he felt his limbs getting colder and heavier but he had to keep moving. His training kicked in and ordered his phantom legs to keep pumping even though his entire body told him to lie down and conserve energy. 

The boss would not forgive his failure – that a coat check girl with a lucky shot could foil him. The mutant had been lost again. He had pledged to retrieve him. It seemed like such a simple task: one man, just one. But the target had eluded an entire strike team and now it had eluded him as well. He just had to make it to the car, then to the infirmary….

The S.S.B. weren’t pursuing him. They had scattered, as per protocol, to protect the P.M., the President and other prominent figures when they heard the shot. He had seen the weapon at the last second and turned sideways but the bullet had still caught him. He had no memory of getting to his feet and making it out the front entry into the street. Clearly, his superior body was making moves that his mind could not keep up with. By the time the bitch and the mutant explained what had happened, he’d be halfway across London. Perhaps the boss would be pleased enough with his physical performance tonight to spare him in the name of empirical data. Yes, it was possible. Just another block and he would be at his car. He was going to make it.

He rounded a street corner and saw his car for an instant before he was hit in the chest and thrown backwards into the street. Winded and in considerable pain, he was unable to marshal his strength to fight off the ensuing blows. He mentally crawled inside himself and waited for the mutant to finish; if he survived the beating, he might yet glean some valuable information. 

Charlie reached for the assassin and dragged him by his coat into the privacy of a darkened wynd off the main road. Even in the darkness, he could see that Evey’s shot had hit him in the stomach. If treated soon he might survive, but if not it would be a long and agonizing death. Despite the pitch black of the alleyway, Charlie saw well in the dark; another “gift” from his Larkhill term. He saw that the killer was scared and in awe of him at the same time.

“Who are you!” he growled, baring his glittering teeth to the night.

“Just a servant.”

“Serving whom?”

“You know: Susan.” 

“What was your mission?”

“To bring you to her.” 

The assassin was shaking against Charlie’s grip, and he recognized it as the body’s unconscious attempt to warm himself. Too bad he was cold because all of the blood was leaving his body.

“Her? Susan’s a woman?” 

The assassin chuckled and then began to cough and spit up. Charlie eased his grip on the man’s throat. He was being very compliant which was surprising. Perhaps he knew that he was dying and didn’t see the need to keep someone else’s secrets.

“She’s not a woman in the traditional sense: too driven, too insensitive, too analytical. But yes: a woman.” He laughed again, perhaps due to shock. “You were her first and she believes that you are the key to her work.”

Charlie gripped the man’s throat again and raised him off the ground and along the alley wall with one arm. He took a strange delight in feeling his victim’s feet kick out uselessly against him, and to hear the clucking noise his mouth made as he gasped for breath.

“What work?”

“Human bio-engineering… better… stronger” the assassin spat out between gasps “Like… me. We… are brothers.”

Charlie lowered the man to the ground once again. The assassin’s legs failed though, so Charlie had to hold him upright against the wall.

“What do you mean “brothers”?” he hissed.

“I have… been…altered, like you. But… something is wrong with us. Susan can’t fix it. You are the template… she needs you in order to understand. I don’t know anymore than that, I swear.” He coughed heavily and Charlie released him, watching him slither down the wall into the gutter.

“I’m dying.” The man gasped.

“Yes.”

“See? That’s part of the problem: we’re not supposed to die. Not from a lucky shot made by a whore, anyway…”

Charlie’s rage crested from a dead calm as he grabbed the man’s head and smashed it repeatedly into the alley wall.

“She’s not some whore! She belongs to me – she’s my wife!” he screamed, not caring if he caught anyone’s attention. Something shifted in the gloom behind him and then settled. “Tell me where to find Susan!”

The assassin gurgled and Charlie wondered if he had broken his skull in his uncontrolled outburst.

“D-don’t … know.”

“But you’ve seen her! You take your orders from _someone_!”

“V-v-vervain…” was all he could manage. 

He made another sickly gurgle and his eyes rolled up into his head. Charlie stood up disgusted by both the process of dying going on below him and his own lack of rational control. V was more attuned to this sort of thing, and for the first time in a long time he wished that V were present now and not he. He mulled over the scant information that he had received and then looked down at the body again.

“Goodbye, “brother”.” Charlie stepped over him and back into the street.

The shadows at the end of the wynd coalesced into a walking form that became three dimensional as it approached the opening of the alley. Lithe and tall, it bent down towards the crumpled figure of the assassin gasping for oxygen. It crouched and watched his struggle for sometime until, at last, the assassin spoke.

“He… has… a wife…” he gagged on his own words “He’s… s-s-so strong… T-tell Susan … what I did…”

The crouching figure stood and nodded her long hair in response. The streetlight caught glimmers of auburn in it as it caught glints of silver in her hands. She pointed the gun at the fallen figure.

“I will.” She purred. “But you know that it won’t change a thing: failure is unacceptable.”

She squeezed the trigger once, as the silencer muffled her crime. She searched for a pulse, and when she was satisfied, she rifled his pockets removing his i.d., wallet, and personal effects. She stood and walked back into the alleyway’s gloom leaving behind her just another victim of an urban street crime.

\--------------------------------------------------

Charlie returned to the Prime Minister’s residence only to find it swarming with S.S.B. agents, local police, and, worst of all, press. Knowing that the assailant had been dispatched and being aware that all explanations of the incident would lead back to him, Charlie elected to forego the futility of withstanding an S.S.B. “de-brief” in order to ascertain if Evey was still inside. He was desperate to find her, but did not want to risk catching the eye of a curious reporter who might quickly turn an international non-incident into an investigative feature that would put him in further jeopardy. He hoped that she was fine and had found a way to explain what happened to the S.S.B. Charlie secretly prayed that Eric had stepped in and somehow sheltered her. Since it was standard protocol to clear the official residence after such an incident, he assumed that Evey would either be at S.S.B. main branch or at home waiting for him. 

As the streets were filling with official vehicles and lights, Charlie decided to take to the rooftops in order to cross the city. It had been a long time since he had had to move with speed through the city under the anonymous cover of dark. Above the street, the air had a different quality to it; like the cool clearness of rain before it became sullied by life below. He breathed it in greedily as his eyesight sharpened and his hearing intensified. Charlie bounded across roofs and skylights, curling around smokestacks and fire escapes like an animal in his own personal jungle gym. He barely left footprints as he momentarily touched dozens of lives crossing their balconies and bedroom windows, catching snippets of conversations as he went. His muscles ached gleefully in remembrance of night after night spent in this solitary pleasure: he missed London by rooftop. He missed _owning_ the night. For a moment, he forgot who he was and felt the thrill of returning to the Gallery and to his captivating prisoner. Evey never knew of his exploits in the world above or how he enjoyed channeling his arousal from such nights into excessive courtliness towards her. She was the mechanism that kept the beast at bay in those times. But now, she knew everything and had been forced to participate in his violent reality; the blissful separation was gone. While he had received a closeness to Evey that he had never dreamed possible as V, it had been bought at the cost of their mutual fantasy of one another. She was still the only thing that kept the beast at bay, but now she knew it. 

When he reached their street, Charlie saw several police cars parked in front of their flat. He could not enter until they left, so he restlessly paced the roof down the block biding his time instead. As the pacing continued, the beast within coiled in anticipation: he needed to be near her. He wanted to tell her his whole heart. He wanted to know what she felt about what was happening to them both. He needed her help, not just with Susan, but also with his dark confusion that never seemed to ebb. He wanted to bring her into his half-crazed world in order to experience everything as he did; he wanted her as his partner, for good.

Two torturous hours later the police cars left and only Eric’s undercover S.S.B. detail remained. At least they would not be inside and he could have the privacy that he craved. After he crossed the roof and descended into their building, he made his way to Evey’s apartment but stopped short at the door as he heard Eric’s voice coming from within.

“Evey, this has got to stop! You must stop _shooting people_!”

“I’d be happy to comply if people stopped aiming at him.” She replied coolly. 

“Stop being a smartass, woman! He _needs_ to be in protective custody until this is resolved, you _need_ to be in the barracks where you’ll be safe, and you _need_ a new security officer – how effective will he be if you two are personally involved?”

“Eric, protective custody will be like prison for him and I will not ask him to withstand that! Besides, you can’t guarantee that this Susan thing will EVER be resolved, can you? As you said earlier, legally there’s no link to be made – it’s all a hunch and Dominic can’t do a damn thing about it. If he’s trapped like a rat in a cage, it’ll never be solved _and_ he’ll be a sitting duck for them: if they would try for him at Downing Street, a S.S.B. safe house should be no challenge for them.” Her voice had a ragged edge to it, as if she were on the verge of tears or a mad rant.

“Well, we’ve also got a bigger problem – this!” Eric slapped something down. “A friend at the Observer gave me the heads up, it’ll be on the stands in hours. Evey, I can get you out of a lot of jams, but I have no control over the press! People will want to know why someone has targeted you twice in one week, and it won’t take an intrepid reporter long to figure out that it’s not _you_ that they want.”

Evey remained silent.

“You’re also a liability to my office with this.” Eric sounded regretful.

“Eric, I…”

“If it were just me, I’d tell them all to stuff it and be done with it, but you know that there’s more at stake here than my career…” he said gently “There’s the by-election, a growing backlash against our policies, the new partnership with the Americans to consider… I need you to back away for a time.”

“Eric, working… it’s my life.” She sputtered.

“Maybe it’s time that you made… other things in your life a priority, dear.” Eric paused a moment. “Do you love him?”

“He’s everything, Eric, everything.”

Outside the door, Charlie nearly collapsed against the frame as his heart sent jolts of electricity throughout his body.

“Then, you both need time to figure it out and get to the bottom of this Susan mess. It’s the only thing you can do, if he means so much to you. I’ll always be here and so will the politics, but if you don’t choose him now, you may not get another chance.”

“Eric… I’m scared.” She sounded like a little girl as she spoke.

“Oh hush, dear. If you didn’t feel that way, I’d be worried that you were doing something wrong.” Eric chuckled reassuringly. “I have arranged for you to stay in a place in Yorkshire – very isolated. I made the arrangements myself, so no one knows about it save me and the caretaker who will meet you. Take a few weeks. I’ll update you on any progress made here, okay?”

Silenced fell over the room. Charlie thought that he heard sniffling.

“Alright then – here’s the directions. I’ll have a decoy vehicle parked in the garage for you two tonight. Leave as early as you can, and call me on my private line when you arrive.” Charlie heard footsteps crossing the floor. “He’s lucky to have it, you know. Such commitment in the face of uncertainty is a kind of faith that few of us experience, never mind the love…”

At this point Charlie entered the room. Evey sat on the couch sewing buttons back onto his suit jacket and looked up at the entrance. Her eyes were red but she wasn’t crying yet, no doubt waiting for Eric to leave. She was a disheveled, glorious mess still in her evening gown, with some curls coming free of her hair clips, and sporting the fresh bloody bite that he had marked her with hours before. As soon as he saw her, he felt the invisible string that bound them together tighten and pull him across the room to her. Eric stepped forward, reminding him that he wasn’t alone with her.

“Charlie! Thank god, where have you been?”

“I, uh, went after the shooter. By the time that I caught up with him, it was too late – he’d bled out.” Charlie paused to see what effect the news would have on Evey. She seemed detached from it. “I came back to Downing Street but it was overrun and I figured that neither of you were there anymore. I didn’t want to speak to either S.S.B. or the press, so I came here. It took quite sometime to do so unnoticed.”

“Well, the news is already out about the attacks, so I have asked Evey to take you away for a while until things calm down.” Eric stepped in close to Charlie and grasped his hand. “I think that you both need the time, don’t you?”

Charlie stared hard into Eric’s eyes. What he read there was not jealousy but paternal concern. In that non-verbal language that is the sole province of men, Eric was telling him put her life before his in all things. It was a commandment that Charlie was fully prepared to obey. They shook hands and Eric finished by grabbing Charlie’s shoulders and hugging him briefly.

“Good luck.” He said simply and then turned to Evey. “Call me when you get there.”

Eric closed the door and suddenly Charlie felt the awesome weight of being alone with Evey, knowing what she had said to Eric minutes earlier. Unwilling to allow himself the luxury of hesitation, he crossed the room and sat down beside her. She never took her eyes off him. He gently removed the sewing from her hands and warmed them with his own; her small, pale fingers lost in his large, callused paws. Charlie stared at their hands, marveling in their differences, and then he stared unflinchingly into her eyes as he had with Eric. Eventually, he leaned in and softly kissed her forehead, her cheeks and the supple skin around her eyes. He could not form words for the enormity of his feelings, so instead he leaned his forehead against hers and just enjoyed the sound of their breathing together. She broke the silence first.

“Charlie, the shooter… what about…”

He did not let her finish, put placed a finger across her lips.

“Tomorrow. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. There’s been enough horror for one evening.” He took a deep breath and then released it. “Evey, I’m sorry about this evening, at the ball…”

“You don’t…”

“I want you to know that I trust you, I do. The person that I do not trust is myself. I am scarred and half mad and a murderer – I don’t understand how you could want me. But, I look at you and all of my darkness dims. I wonder, can one good thing redeem a life of evil? I have dreamed of this and wished it were true.”

Evey grasped his face and pulled him into her for a long, lingering kiss before he could say anymore. As she leaned away, he saw the tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Charlie, please don’t push me away again.”

“I wasn’t – I’m not.” He wiped her tears with his thumbs. “You promised me that you’d never leave me no matter what. In light of what has happened, do you still stand by that statement? I would not condemn you if you didn’t, my love, you should know that first….”

“Nothing has changed my answer and nothing will. I told you _that_ too.”

He let out a massive, body-shaking sigh and leaned his head back. When he looked back down at her, she saw that he was smiling widely at her.

“In that case, will you do me the honour of running away with me tomorrow as my wife?”

“I beg your pardon?” Evey blinked with incredulity as a slow blush coloured her cheeks.

“Become my wife. Right here. Right now.”

“Here? In my living room?”

“It’s a promise, Evey. One can make it anywhere. I don’t need witnesses or a priest to say to you that I will spend all of my life loving and honouring only you.”

It was pure madness. Only hours before Charlie had accused her of emotional indiscretion and Evey had told him to leave her. Now, with only a doomed future of peril and isolation in front of them, they sat making promises to one another that most have a hard time committing to in favorable circumstances. Evey needed time to catch her breath, but when she found it, she put it to good use.

“Yes, I promise from this day forward to love only you, Charlie. I never wish to be separated from you, and I will face whatever comes our way by your side. I promise.” She kissed him. “You are my husband.”

“And, you are my wife.” 

He grinned and his eyes flashed in a way that made him look particularly demonic. It made Evey’s heart melt. They kissed again, but not a way that you would in church, until Evey pulled away suddenly.

“Charlie, I don’t know your last name.” She breathed.

“It’s Tenley. Charles Tenley.”

“Hmmmm,” she murmured “Evelyn Tenley…”

Charlie laughed out loud and scooped her up into his arms. He stood and spun around with her, until she was laughing as hard as he was. He put her down and she leaned against him, still shaking with nervous giggling.

“Well, at least we’re dressed for the occasion.” She kissed his hand and slowly led him towards the bedroom.

One last ripple of doubt flowed through him as he stopped her forward progress and forced her back to him.

“So, we’re going to be alright, you and I?”

“Well, I don’t know what the future holds, but as of right now, I’m the happiest that I’ve ever been knowing that I just married a scarred, half-mad murderer in my living room.” She winked at him and a devilish smile curled her lips. “Tomorrow, Mr. and Mrs. Tenley are going to Yorkshire and they are going to solve this Susan conundrum – together.”

She yanked him into her and began to walk backwards to the bedroom, wrapping her arms around his waist as she did so.

“But, tonight, the happy couple are going to do their best to apologize to one another for the misunderstandings of the day. Perhaps a _couple_ of times…”

Charlie roared with laughter as Evey led him through the bedroom door and slammed it behind them.


	10. North

They set out before dawn in what must have been Eric’s private beater, and not a ministry vehicle. Though dinged and a bit rusty, it ran well and had a working heater that was a welcome asset when traveling to northern England in mid-October. They packed light and traveled quickly up the still-dark M-1, Evey driving so as to give Charlie a chance to explain what he had learned from the assassin in full. Afterwards, he fell silent for a long time. Out of the corner of her eye, Evey could see his scowl deepening as the highway lights flashed over his face and then faded leaving him in shadow.

She kept quiet mulling over her own thoughts on the Susan matter. She was pretty sure that Charlie was forming a plan based on confronting Susan personally, which she thought was a bad idea. In his former life, Charlie had been largely successful against his enemies by utilizing the element of surprise; launching surgical strikes and disappearing quickly back underground. His targets, though they vastly outnumbered him, were caught off guard and could not track him afterwards – they did not even know who they were looking for. But this was different. He was known to Susan, he could be tracked anywhere in the country, Susan’s resources were vast and she must have known that sooner or later, he would have no choice but to come to her. Susan held all the cards in this game and Charlie had few options. He would walk into the lion’s den in order to spare Evey and to end the frustration of waiting for the inevitable, but what could one man do – even a man as capable as Charlie – against an organized system determined to cage him? It seemed hopeless and Evey’s mind was desperate to find an alternate solution. If she could somehow find concrete evidence linking Susan or Vervain MedCom to the previous attacks, Eric and Dominic might be able to level the playing field a bit, but otherwise their hands were tied. She and Charlie were off the path and alone in the woods; abandon all hope, ye who enter here. 

Evey tried to physically shake the pessimism from her thoughts when she noticed that the petrol light was lit. She pulled into a service stop further up the highway and turned to Charlie only to find him curled into himself sleeping. His face was completely different, unlined by worry or emotional intensity. She felt that she could almost see past his scars and picture him as a young man who was carefree and unencumbered by his future. Indeed, he looked years younger when he slept and she felt that it was a shame that, in over 10 years, she had only seen this expression a few times knowing that he was usually never this relaxed in daylight. As V, she had not been privy to his emotions when they washed over his face, and sometimes she missed the blank canvas that Guy Fawkes provided, realizing that it was not easy for him to prevent his feelings from colouring his expression. She now understood that the mask had been for both of their protection. 

Evey pumped fuel alone under the perma-glow of the station’s fluorescents and watched as the first light of the new day changed the blackness of night to deep violet, imperial blue, and dark crimson before her eyes. She seemed isolated and alone on the planet’s surface just then, as though she could almost feel the earth’s curvature under her feet – so still yet constantly spinning through space. She felt awesomely small and put in her place by the universe. 

“Oh come, rosy-fingered Dawn…” she murmured to herself.

“Does the dark frighten you that much?”

Evey leapt at the sound of his voice and swung around brandishing the fuel nozzle. He stood very close to her and raised his hands in mock surrender as if she held him at gunpoint.

“Sorry.” Charlie said.

“God! I will _never_ get used to your preternatural creeping!” She breathed in and tried to calm her fluttering heart. “Did I wake you? I didn’t mean to…”

“No. It was the car. The movement was soothing, but when we stopped, it roused me just like a child.” He smiled sadly at her. “You’ve been standing out here for quite a while – lost in thought.”

“I guess I was.” She replaced the nozzle and paid the auto-pump. “I was lost between two worlds: wishing the day to come and wanting the night to remain at the same time.”

“Why?” He came up behind her and wrapped an arm across her clavicle, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I wanted the night to stay because, for now, we’re both still free and safe in it. Sometimes when it’s late and quiet, I feel like anything is possible, you know? Like the future truly is a blank slate.”

He nodded against her neck in agreement.

“And, why did you wish for the day to come?” he whispered.

She stiffened suddenly in his arms and turned back towards the car.

“I wished for the day because it’s foolish to yearn for something that can never be. Might as well get on with it and face what’s coming with eyes wide open.”

\---------------------------------------

Evey suggested that they go to Leeds before heading into the Dales knowing that there was a substantial archive there. The only new piece of information that the assassin had revealed was that Vervain MedCom had been involved in human bioengineering supposedly for a military application. Susan’s vendetta was not personal or political in nature, so therefore they could narrow their focus and conduct a search within these new parameters. The Leeds archive was the second largest in England; the government had felt it prudent not to center all of its information in one geographic location in case a natural or manmade disaster wiped London off the face of the earth – bureaucracies loved their files and felt that the maintenance of information was the only thing staving off societal chaos. Evey was also hoping to flush out further information about Susan’s relationship to Sutler and Norsefire. Knowing that Susan was indeed a woman changed her theory on their connection and she was eager to find out how Vervain had survived the brutal culling of the Reclamation when it did not have allegiance to the party or serve Sutler in any obvious way. She hoped that discovering the source of Susan’s power would give them an unforeseen advantage.

Evey used her connection to Eric’s office in order to gain access to the restricted files of the archive, which afforded them entry to a semi-private reading room off limits to the general public. The room was as quiet and close as a tomb despite the presence of about a dozen academics and civil servants. Evey and Charlie sat down at a long, communal reading table and pulled up two archive monitors. Evey chose to examine tax records, both before and after the Reclamation, that pertained to either Susan or Vervain MedCom. Eric had always told her that no one could ever truly disappear so long as they still paid taxes, and the tax department was _very_ dedicated to thorough compliance in the matter. The search was dull and fruitless, producing mostly eyestrain and a backache. 

Sometime later, Evey looked up from her monitor and discovered that two hours had gone by. She let out an exasperated sigh and looked over to find Charlie utterly absorbed in whatever information he had discovered. His silver eyes flicked back and forth in rapid reading as his left hand occasionally tapped the console’s fingertip pad. His right hand went to his head and massaged his temple absently. Evey suddenly became aware of the general restlessness within the reading room, like a steadily building pain that all at once threatened with sharp urgency. A large zone of space had developed around Charlie and Evey at the reading table, and the other researchers who remained fidgeted in their seats, casting wary glances at him. Whether it was a reaction to his appearance or merely a feral sensing of his “difference”, the pack had turned and set their sights on him. One academic called over a room proctor who nodded his head and then made his way towards Charlie. Evey’s invisible hackles rose as she got up, walked over to Charlie and slid her arm protectively around his shoulder.

“What has captured your interest so?” she whispered in his ear while maintaining eye contact with the proctor, who halted in mid-stride and returned to his station instead.

Charlie looked up at her and saw the retreating proctor. He had been aware that the other researchers were growing uncomfortable with his presence. People often did when they spent too much time around him. He ignored it as he always did – he was used to it – until the inevitable rude remark would be delivered and he would have to deal with the prejudice. What surprised him was that Evey picked up on it too and used her unspoken “sameness” with the members of the group to confer acceptance on him and thus deflect the whole situation before it started. Anthropologically speaking, it was a marvelous display, but for Charlie it had a far more personal impact: she was protecting him – whether he needed it or not – by placing herself between him and a possible threat. His heart swelled for an instant before he turned back to the information that he had uncovered.

“I was perusing birth and death certificates in hopes of uncovering an identity for this Susan woman. As the person that you researched seemed to disappear after the Reclamation, I wanted to be sure that we were following the correct lead. Now that we know Susan is a woman, it narrowed things down considerably.”

“Did you find her?” Evey stared at the screen with renewed interest despite the eyestrain.

“No, not exactly. I found a Sidney Sumner born almost 30 years ago.”

“Well, that’s not right – she’s too young and it’s the wrong name anyway.” Said Evey definitively.

“Yes, but her mother’s maiden name is listed as Susan, which is why I dug further. Her tax information is current, including a London address and a profession: head of corporate security for Vervain MedCom. I think that _this_ woman was the assassin’s contact at Vervain.”

“Okay, so Sidney Sumner could be a relative or something. How does this get us closer to Susan?”

“It doesn’t. But it gives us background on her. Given that Sidney is 29 years old and works for Vervain, I think it’s safe to assume that she’s the daughter of the Susan that we’re looking for. Sidney’s birth certificate lists her mother’s name as Andrea Susan. An “A. Susan” was registered in the same year as Adam Sutler at his university.” Charlie looked up at her from the monitor.

“I think that your original theory was correct: they were school mates. We just had the gender wrong, that’s all.” Charlie entered a few commands and then rose to go to the reading room’s printer station.

“It’s hard to believe that Sutler’s closest friend in his salad days was a woman considering how brutal his regime was towards women…” Evey seemed to be thinking aloud as she followed him.

“Actually, it makes perfect sense. It explains the repressive, sexist policies of Norsefire, it explains why Susan seemed to “disappear” during the Reclamation, and it explains why Vervain MedCom survived despite its apparent uselessness to the party’s cause.”

Charlie picked up the hard copies from the printer that was next to the proctor’s desk. Placing his hand on Evey’s back, he steered her towards the reading room doors. As he passed the proctor, he grinned fiercely being sure to flash his incisors at the man. After all, anthropologically speaking, that’s all a smile was: a chance to warn off an enemy with your teeth.

“How does it explain it? I don’t understand….” Evey hated when Charlie was in teacher mode.

Charlie shuffled through his print outs and separated one, handing it to her. It was Sidney Sumner’s birth certificate. Her mother was listed as living and named Andrea Susan. Her father was listed as “status unknown” and named Adam Sutler.

\---------------------------------------

“Sutler had an illegitimate child?!” Evey was worked up and it showed in her erratic driving. On the narrow, twisted roads of Yorkshire, Charlie was more than a bit concerned that they would make it to their destination in one piece.

“Well, it happens, I suppose.” Said Charlie while fiercely gripping the door handle as Evey sped around another blind corner. “I have found it is those who fervently embrace extreme beliefs that often have the most hypocritical basis for their positions. An unwanted, unclaimed love child would explain a lot of Sutler’s resulting motivations, and it perhaps explains a bit of Susan’s as well.” 

“The secret life of fascist dictators…” Evey muttered while narrowly missing an escaped sheep.

“The same could be said of underground terrorists too…” Charlie looked sideways at her and smiled; only to be brought back to impending vehicular doom by some more of Evey’s mad swerving. “Dearest, would you like me to drive?”

“No.”

“Well then, would you try? Sheep have the desire to live too, you know…”

Evey growled at his sarcasm and then braked hard making a sharp right-hand turn off the highway into an impossibly small fieldstone laneway. Charlie closed his eyes and secretly cursed his wife for being an emotional driver. She made another turn and stopped in front of a formidable cattle fence. Mounted into the fieldstone wall to their left was a small sign that said “Briar House” and a security squawk box.

“We’re here.” Evey announced.

She rolled down the window, allowing the pungent aroma of manure to invade the car, and pressed the security box. The box buzzed and squeaked for several seconds before replying.

“Wot?” said the box.

“I’m Evelyn Hammond. Eric Finch said that you’d be expecting me.”

“Oh, aye?” 

The box hissed and then switched off as they waited patiently at the gate. After a full minute had passed, the cattle gate buzzed and swung open automatically. Evey drove through two more mud and manure soaked fields before passing through a gate of thorny hedgerows that opened up onto a circular driveway. A middle aged man wearing Wellingtons, an oilskin jacket and a tweed hunting cap stood glowering at them with a pipe clenched firmly between his teeth. Evey and Charlie got out and grabbed their belongings.

“You must be Mr. Bowles.” Evey stretched out her hand to him.

“Aye.” He said without offering his hand in return.

“Well, I’m Evey and this is my husband, Charlie.” She directed his glare to Charlie, which produced no difference in Mr. Bowles’ reaction whatsoever.

Mr. Bowles stood scowling a moment, then turned on his heel and headed for the house.

“Right. Suppose ye be wantin’ ta be shown about, then…”

“That would be marvelous.” Said Charlie icily.

The house was constructed of the same fieldstones as the surrounding fences and was a modest farmer’s abode. It had a small garden on the lee side with a vegetable patch, a greenhouse, and an impressive trellis of roses. The garden led down sharply to a rill at the bottom of the property, whose opposite bank rose just as sharply upwards for several miles, culminating in what looked to be like some sort of pagan lookout. The house was protected from the formidable northern winds by two rows of poplars to the north and west. It was so isolated that one could hear sheep bleating a half-mile away, and so cozy and secure that one expected a hobbit to appear in the front doorway at any moment.

Mr. Bowles showed them around the house. A coal-fired stove heated the whole home with the addition of a fireplace in the living room. The kitchen looked out onto the greenhouse and had a fully stocked cold pantry. The living room was a modest but well-appointed affair overlooking the garden, while the rest of the house consisted of a mudroom, two upstairs bedrooms and a pokey little bathroom that faced the pagan promontory. Mr. Bowles informed them, in fewer than 20 words, that the house had belonged to Eric’s mother and that he visited as often as he could get away from London. Bowles was the caretaker and tenant of the next farm over.

“Stayin’ long, will ye?” he inquired with a hairy eyebrow.

“A few weeks at least. Perhaps longer.” Evey replied, suddenly feeling extremely tired.

“Mmph.” He answered. “Dairy come Tuesday and Friday – leave yer bottles at top of lane. Butcher on Thursday.”

“Sorry?” Charlie spoke up.

“Butcher’s van.” Bowles tried to enunciate clearly, as if Charlie was slow. “Comes on Thursday for ye ta pick yer meat. Name’s Dale – buzz ‘im in. The rest of yer vittles ye can get in town.”

With that Mr. Bowles turned and walked towards the driveway.

“Pleasure meeting you!” Evey called out after him. Bowles waved his hand once without looking back and kept walking.

“Remarkable local colour.” Charlie muttered.

“Oh, I don’t care.” Evey said dramatically, slamming the door on the retreating figure of Mr. Bowles. “Take me to bed, Mr. Tenley, or lose me forever!” 

Charlie didn’t hesitate as he scooped Evey up and climbed upstairs to the master bedroom. He tossed her gently onto the bed and appreciatively watched her bounce as she giggled. He excused himself to the bathroom, which was cold enough to see one’s breath in during October, and marveled at the view up towards the beacon. As he returned to the bedroom, he thought about proposing a trip up the mountain the next day. But when he entered, he found Evey curled up on the mattress apparently having fallen asleep where she fell. Charlie sighed and set about stripping Evey out of her traveling clothes and tucking her under the blankets before doing the same himself.

“Oh, the joys of country air and married life…” he muttered to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes:
> 
> “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” – Dante’s Inferno, Dante Alighieri.
> 
> “rosy-fingered Dawn” – The Odyssey, Homer.


	11. The Heath

Evey tried to turn over in the dark but found herself pinned to the bed by a body pressing down on her. Roused to a temporary panic by the restriction and the total blackness surrounding her, she tried to free herself only to be held firmly in place by forceful hands and a strong pelvis pushing into her.

“Charlie?” she squeaked.

She was naked, and she couldn’t remember how she got that way. No voice called out to her, and no terms of affection caressed her – she just felt the iron grip bruising her arms and the nightmarish sound of ragged breathing.

“Charlie!”

A knee wedged its way between her thighs and forced them apart. Before she knew it, the pelvis had lifted off her and sunk between her legs where she could definitely feel the hot insistence of his arousal brushing against her inner thigh. She screamed and started to push herself up the bed frame, trying to escape that way. This was not Charlie. The feel was all wrong. She was alone and naked in the dark with someone else. His intent was clear – hers had to be equally so. This was not sex, it was power.

She threw off his weight slightly with her sudden scurry upwards, and wrangled an arm free. Evey wasted no time to striking out viciously, if blindly, in the dark hitting her mark a few times. Her blows elicited a growl that she recognized and she froze. A hand grabbed her free one and pinned it down again, then _his_ face loomed at her from out of the blackness. Mostly it was just his eyes glowing silver, and the grin – that unmistakable Fawkesian grin – white and impossibly _moving_ as he spoke to her.

“Stop this, Miss Hammond. You need me.” His voice seemed to be coming from miles away, as if transmitted over a bad phone connection. “It’s not what you think…”

“V, no!” she cried out.

He paid no attention to her as his grip on her relaxed and he appeared to dissolve into her body. So different from the sensation of penetration, she felt as if he was actually inside her looking out through her eyes, rolling under her skin. Still frozen in disbelief and panic, she looked up again and saw Charlie this time pressing down on her. She tried to grab at him, to speak, but he was there only in body and her pleas fell on deaf ears.

Light flooded the room from behind Charlie, just as it had in the Downing Street closet, and two silhouettes appeared. Both silently raised their guns in unison and pointed them at Charlie’s head, which was bent to his task and blind to everything around him. Evey’s disoriented panic turned to rage in the instant a flicker travels to flame, and her body flooded with power not her own. V pulsated under the hide of her and roared, causing every organ to vibrate in sympathy. The noise was so deafening that she thought that she might explode. A shade of V rose up out of her, pulling her along after him to mimic his actions. Her hands reached out to the armed men. She grabbed their guns by the muzzles and pushed them back and through their chests, disaffectedly watching them as their bodies exploded in sprays of blood and gore. She stood in the light naked, blood dripping from her hands and pooling around the bodies at her feet, as V’s ghost turned to face her.

“For what is to come: never hesitate, push through!” 

He was nearly translucent as he spoke and when he was done, he threw himself at her again. She gasped as she allowed him back into her body and felt him settle into her, like someone would in a chair, and then all was silent. She looked around at the blood, the bodies, and the darkened room. Charlie was gone. There was no trace of V. She stood alone, bewildered for a moment, then she felt Charlie’s scream coming at her from within:

“EVEEEEEEEEEY!”

\-----------------------------------------------

Evey awoke with a start from her dream into the brightness of Briar House’s master bedroom. It must have been mid-morning by the angle of the sun, and she could not comprehend how unbelievably brilliant the light was given the darkness that she had experienced moments before. She sunk her head back into the deep pile of pillows and sighed in nervous release. She checked herself. No blood, no bodies on the floor, but she _was_ naked, and Charlie was nowhere to be found. Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs – and whatever ghosts might remain in her – she got up, got dressed and went downstairs.

Charlie was not downstairs either, but there was a heavenly smell coming from the kitchen, and when she got there she found a note by the window seat next to the stove:

_Check the oven.  
\- C._

She found a plate of breakfast in the warmer and a fresh pot of coffee on the stovetop. She smiled as she poured it into a heavy mug: it had taken her years to convince him that she could not start her day without it, instead of the traditional tea that he favored. He had called her all manner of things when she finally expressed her preference, including accusing her of secretly being American. She savored her meal while staring out at the bracken and brown of the damp, fall countryside marveling at the lack of any noise save the sounds of birds and the soft dripping of the eaves. Evey wondered why anyone, given the option, would choose cramped, noisy, polluted city living over this prosaic solitude. Then she heard the loud backfiring and grating noise of an industrial engine trying to turn over. So much for quiet country life, she thought. Donning a spare set of Wellingtons and an oilskin left in the greenhouse, Evey followed the source of the dreadful noise. Two fields over she found both the aggravating machine and Charlie, stripped to the waist and covered in engine grease, lodged halfway into a tractor under the watchful supervision of Mr. Bowles.

“Try it again.” Said Charlie as he backed his way out of the tractor’s hood.

Mr. Bowles tried the starter again, but the engine kept turning without igniting. Charlie waved his hand at Mr. Bowles.

“Hold on, I think I see the issue…” Charlie dove back under the hood with a few choice tools taken from a beat up toolbox at his feet. “Try it now.”

Mr. Bowles started the engine again, and after several hiccupping turns, the engine ignited and sputtered reluctantly. Mr. Bowles beamed and raised both hands in the air triumphantly before noticing Evey standing ankle deep in mud, giggling at the display.

“Mornin’.” He offered her as he leapt down from the tractor more lightly than she would have expected.

Charlie looked up and saw Evey for the first time. He smiled and walked towards her only to receive a bottle of solvent and a rag to the gut from Mr. Bowles.

“Tend ta yeself, lad. Ye look like tha Devil.”

Indeed he did. With engine grease up to his elbows, finger smudges across his ribs and face, his scarred torso exposed and shiny from the permanent drizzle, and his flashing silver eyes, he looked like one of hell’s minions. Evey’s eyes moved over him with appreciation as he cleaned himself off. How could someone so ugly seem so beautiful to her? She was not given time to ponder her question as Mr. Bowles took her arm and directed her to the firmer ground of the lane that cut through the field.

“ ‘Andy bloke, yer ‘usband…” he grinned while puffing madly on his pipe “Tractor hadn’t worked in a fortnight.”

“Yes, he _is_ handy.” Said Evey trying to peer around Mr. Bowles at Charlie, who had put his shirt back on, much to her dismay. Charlie walked up to them still wiping his hands. 

“You should get the tractor under cover, Mr. Bowles. The rain’s only causing more problems. I can come over in the next day or so and see the others, as we discussed.”

“Right then – thanks, Mr. Tenley. Come by when ye can.” Mr. Bowles doffed his cap, smiled and bounded back to his sputtering tractor. He raised his hand as he left. “Mornin’, Ms. Evelyn…”

“Ms. Evelyn?” Evey murmured.

“I told him my last name and you introduced yourself as “Hammond” yesterday, so I think that he doesn’t know what to call you. He could just come out and ask, but it’s not the northern way, I think.” Replied Charlie.

“Looks like you made a friend there.” Evey smiled up at him.

“Yes. Someone who can work with his hands garners a lot of respect around here. He’s got some more farm equipment that doesn’t work, so I said that I would see what could be done. That tractor’s as old as the hills – I imagine that the rest is of a similar vintage. Most likely I’ll have to machine him some new parts…”

“You can machine parts? What am I saying… _of course_ you can.” Her eyes flitted to him in sarcasm. “He has a machinist’s set-up somewhere?”

“His son is a machinist.”

“Son?”

“Adopted son, Gerald. Gerald has St. Mary’s, and like many of the virus survivors, fled the city to avoid prejudice and persecution. When Bowles found him, he was hiding out in one of the cow barns half-starved and half-mad. That’s why Bowles didn’t bat an eyelash at my appearance: the countryside is crawling with virus survivors.” Charlie was silent for a moment. “St. Mary’s is slowly degenerative to those it doesn’t kill outright. Gerald is in the final stages and is bedridden – that’s why I offered to fix his equipment for him: soon he’ll be all alone.”

“But you didn’t have St. Mary’s Virus…” Evey offered gently.

“He doesn’t need to know that. He doesn’t need to know that I may have been the Petri dish that spawned what is killing his son.” Charlie spat the words from his mouth scrubbing at his hands too hard with the used rag. “Besides, it means that I can use his equipment to fabricate some things that I need. He doesn’t know why we are here, but considering his son’s condition and his taciturn social skills, he probably wouldn’t tell anyone if he did know. He said that several medical companies sent scientists to test local St. Mary’s victims a few years ago. He wasn’t certain, but he said that Vervain MedCom might have been one of them. He didn’t have many pleasant things to say about scientists.”

“Oh.” Evey remained silent taking in the information. Her eyes widened as a thought dawned on her, and she grabbed his shirt lifting it upwards to reveal a small scar on his left side.

“Your wound! Your _bullet wound_ from 4 days ago – it’s healed!”

He caught her hand and tried to lower his shirt, but she held firm.

“You’ve had a bandage on it since it happened. Now, it’s just a tiny scar? Charlie!”

“It healed within 48 hours.” He sighed. “Soon there won’t even be a scar. I hid it because I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Worry me?! I’m your _wife_! You’re _supposed_ to burden me with this kind of information!” She tried to control herself and think clearly. “What did that assassin say to you? You ‘aren’t supposed to die’ – he was right, wasn’t he? And you knew it…”

Evey lowered his shirt and glared at him: he was going to have to explain this to her, she would accept no less. He sighed again.

“I’m sure that I can die, Evey, and someday I will. But, I can withstand a lot of injury – probably more than a human being should.” He reached for her but she backed away.

“It explains how I survived Larkhill. It explains how I survived nearly 90% of my body being burned. It explains a lot about my extreme kinesiology.” He tried to touch her again but she batted his hands away as a crease of worry deepened across her forehead.

“Evey, aside from the headaches, can you ever remember me being ill? A cold, the flu, aches or pains, rheumatism? Christ! Evey, I am a middle-aged man but I bound around like a teenager – never a broken bone, or a sore muscle!” 

“But, BULLETS, Charlie! No one heals from bullets like they were paper cuts! And if you heal so well, why are you covered in scars?” As she said this last sentence, she regretted it, knowing that it would hurt him to think that she might prefer him to look normal.

“Bullets?” His face hardened towards her and he ripped his shirt up off his chest again. “I was shot _17 times_ on November 5th, Evey – do you see a single circular wound scar on me? Well, do you? I don’t _know_ why I’m covered in scars! I don’t _know_ why I can survive gunshots! If I have been “altered” instead of just experimented upon, there might be answers out there for me, but I _just don’t know!_ ”

Evey stared at his chest in disbelief. She had never asked him about how he survived the 5th mostly because she did not want to relive the pain of that time. She had questions, as any reasonable mind would, but up until now, the “how” did not seem too important. She reached out her fingers towards his chest but stopped herself just before she touched him. Her hands were shaking. It was impossible. What he was asserting was impossible. She backed up another half step still staring at his chest.

“It’s impossible.” She murmured.

“All I know is that it is increasing over time.” He sighed with frustration. “10 years ago it took me 6 months to recover completely from the wounds; now, it takes less than a week.”

“What about the headaches?” Evey said randomly as if someone told her to ask the question.

“I don’t know, Evey.”

She backed up another half step unconsciously with her fingers still outstretched. Charlie raised his own hands and stepped towards her slowly.

“Evey, please don’t fear me.” He pleaded quietly with his heart hammering against his ribs.

She looked up at him then and saw the expression of pain on his face, and it broke her. She moved forward quickly and gripped him to her, wrapping her arms around his waist as if his life depended on it. A shudder vibrated through him as he buried his face in her rain-soaked curls.

“I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m sorry.”

He nodded his head against her neck but said nothing as he held onto her tightly in the rain.

\---------------------------------------

Charlie wanted to climb up to the beacon. It was several miles, but after the morning’s revelation, Evey did not want to appear to be shrinking from his presence. Her mind was racing with the implications of what she now knew about both Susan and Charlie. She was also adding to the list of descriptors for her husband: terrorist, murderer, split personality, amnesiac, torture victim, inviolable, target, insane. It sounded like bad fiction. And yet, she had agreed to marry him knowing many of these attributes from first hand experience. Did that make her just as insane as him? Of course she was crazy: she loved him. The sun peeked out in time for their walk, and happily, the terrain was so rough that she had to focus all of her energy on her footing and forget about the nagging questions that swirled about her like gnats. 

Charlie, himself, remained quiet most of the way up the mountain too, turning only occasionally to help Evey in her climb or ask her if she wanted to rest. She wondered what he was thinking about. She hoped that her behavior had not hurt him. She was desperate to end the silence but did not know how to start the conversation. After an hour and a half of rugged climbing, they reached the summit and it was magnificent. The entire county was laid out before them like a massive patchwork quilt all coloured in russets and auburns, olives and burnt umbers. They were so high up that individual creatures no longer registered: sheep could only be seen if they moved as a flock in the fields below, cars could only be discerned by their velocity, and even Briar House seemed small and toy like. The air was cold and clear, and Evey was glad that her oilskin did not breathe, otherwise she would be freezing. It was easy to imagine the promontory covered in snow by early November, while the rest of the county might not see real accumulation until December. It was also easy to see why generations of locals had held this county against foreign attack: you could see for miles in every direction. Not even the most skilled force could sneak up on a watchful lookout in this location. The beacon was lonely but it reverberated with ancient power; the power to see your future, and the power to guide your own destiny. 

You could even see weather patterns. Evey stood on a rock outcropping overlooking the valley below and watched as a thunderstorm coalesced and raged towards them from the west lands. Steadily the winds grew and the temperature dropped until she had to brace herself against the storm’s harbingers, and mist began to dampen her clothes and hair again. She watched the storm roll in for nearly 45 minutes, lost in the thoughts and feelings of being some mad pilgrim standing firm in the sight of awesome chaos. She thought of King Lear raging on the heath in his insanity, and thought that there must have been a dizzying glory in it for him, as there was for her. She also thought back on her nightmare from the night before, and felt strangely that if something of that V ghost lived within her that he must be in his element now. She wanted to stand and scream until her voice failed her. She wanted to dare Susan to come and claim Charlie from her. If Susan had appeared on the mountaintop at that moment, Evey would have unhesitatingly given her life to destroy her enemy, so moved as she was by the landmark’s witchcraft.

A hand reached out and held hers. It was the first time since they had reached the summit that Evey had remembered that Charlie was with her. His expression was unreadable but his grip was soft.

“Evey, we have to find shelter from this storm. Come, I’ve found a place.”

She allowed Charlie to lead her part way down the mountainside feeling the storm snapping at their heels. He guided her to the mouth of a small cave in the rock face that looked out over the valley. It was not big, but it was deep and would make good shelter against what promised to be an apocalyptic storm. He climbed in first and she followed, sitting close to the cave’s opening so that she could watch the rain. She felt him scoot up behind her placing his legs on either side of hers and wrapping his arms around her shoulders to stop the shivering she was unaware had started. Evey leaned back into the warmth of his body, and he responded by pulling her closer to him. They remained that way for a long time, until the first crash of thunder roused them both from themselves.

“I’m not afraid of you, you know. And I don’t wish that you were someone else.” She said finally.

He did not say anything but nuzzled into her neck and breathed warmth into her hair.

“But I am afraid _for_ you, Charlie. I don’t care if you are invincible…” Evey was careful about how she worded what came next. “I am not. I’m very, very human. If you are taken from me, I won’t survive it. It happened once and I made it through, but not again. In those first 5 years before you came, Charlie, I woke up every morning trying to find an excuse not to end it all.”

His head lifted away from her neck and his grip loosened, but still he said nothing. Outside the cave, the storm began to crash and wail in earnest. Evey’s heart was as wild as that storm.

“You asked me if it would always be like this – this intense. I think that it will be. I’ve been in love before but it never came close to touching this, Charlie. I feel bound to you – I can’t explain it any better than that – and keeping that connection is the only thing that holds meaning for me now. I don’t know if love should feel like this, but I do know that I would do anything to keep it, and that’s what scares me.”

She turned in his arms to face him and he saw the tears in her eyes for the first time.

“I’ve killed 2 men and I don’t even feel guilty about it because I did it defending you. I’ve given up my job, and I’ve lied to my friends about your identity and what you’ve done, all to keep you close to me. If Susan were here right now, I’d tear through her with my bare hands and not even think twice about it.” Tears rolled silently down her cheeks.

“Evey…” Charlie whispered as he caressed her.

“Every time that we find out something new, or you reveal something to me as you did this morning, I feel more certain that I will lose you and I can’t handle it – I just _can’t!_ I feel utterly helpless. I am just one person, and I am ill-equipped to deal with this level of cataclysm.”

“What are you saying to me, Evey?” Charlie’s voice was calm and quiet, but hard as the stonewalls of the cave around them. Lightening flashed outside the cave in a mad synchrony of pathetic fallacy.

“You _must_ find a way out of this Susan situation. You _must_ find a way free.” She clasped his face tightly in her hands, her eyes pleading for understanding. “There is nothing left for me if you are gone, Charlie. Can you not see that?”

He kissed her suddenly, crushing her twisted body to him. She felt the tension of his body feed into her, as she simultaneously felt the firmness of his arousal press into her belly. He pulled away as quickly as he had grabbed her, and bent her head to whisper in her ear.

“I will never let you go, Evey. I will always come for you, no matter what the circumstances – I vow it. You must believe it and you _must_ believe in me!” He leaned back and stared into her eyes with his own silver glare.

“You vow it.” She sniffled.

“Yes. You _know_ me. My word is my bond, is it not?”

“It is.” Her voice was shaky, but solidifying by the second. “Do I know you?”

“Yes – everything that matters and in everyway that counts, you do.” He pulled her close again and breathed into her ear. “Sometimes I worry that I don’t know you as well. Like on the promontory just now: I’ve never seen you look so fierce. It was if you could call God down from the gates of Paradise itself!”

“I don’t think that God is taking my calls at the moment, but if I thought it would help, I would certainly try.” She pressed against him enough to feel his erection. It flooded her with warmth that she could have such an effect on him without knowing it. 

“You do know me, my love – like no one else does.” She whispered.

She turned herself fully and faced him, curling her feet beneath her so that she was slightly taller than he while sitting. Drawing his lips up to her with a careful beckoning, she savored his moaning as she parted his lips and slid her tongue slyly inside. Charlie’s hand glided across the surface of her lower back and came to rest possessively on the soft fold above her hipbone. The other hand braced their weight has she leaned into him, lightly pressing her chest against his. His kiss became more demanding, as did his hand that sought to pull her waist closer to his pelvis. But, against all probability, he pulled away first.

“Evey, we’re in a cave.”

As if reminding them of the fact, lightening and thunder crashed together briefly illuminating them both.

“Hmmmmm.” She intoned as she nipped his earlobe with new ardor. “Yes, we are, but I do owe you for last night…”

She leaned back suddenly and fixed him with a stony stare.

“Or do I? I woke up naked this morning, and I had the strangest dream last night….” A devilish glint sparkled in her eyes and he laughed despite himself.

“Are you impugning my honour, Mrs. Tenley?” he licked at the tender skin of her neck.

“I’m not impugning anything. I’m just saying that I enjoy sex with Mr. Tenley too much to sleep through it – I wouldn’t want to miss a thing! I hope that Mr. Tenley wouldn’t want me to miss it either…” She let out a murmur of satisfaction as Charlie stripped off her oilskin and set about freeing her from her heavy cardigan. Clearly, his doubts about the suitability of their accommodation had evaporated.

“Mr. Tenley dreams about ravaging his wife, but would never ravage her whilst she dreamt.” He growled as he dispensed with the sweater and was foiled by her blouse beneath. “Mr. Tenley wants to take his wife, here, like an animal in this cave. He would also like to stop speaking of himself in the third person… Christ, woman! How many layers of clothing did you put on?”

Evey laughed as she came to his aid. He switched to undressing himself instead. Thunder and lightening rattled the cave, giving them slight pause before they continued. There was not much room to maneuver, so Evey had to scoot about to help Charlie with his pants and boots. She made a covering on the cave floor with their discarded clothing, and came back to arrange herself over his waist. With nothing between them now, she felt the heat rising off Charlie’s body while mist from the cave opening dampened the skin on her back. The mixture of warmth and cold caused her to shiver and her nipples to harden. Charlie leaned back on his hands and watched her, in no hurry to rush the beauty of the moment. His eyes crawled over her form, alternately in shadow or lit by the sudden crashes of lightening outside. Wind from the storm tussled her hair about her, but her eyes remained fixed on him. She was waiting on him to act. He saw love and longing in those eyes, but he also saw patience as she waited for him to choose his moment. _She really does know me_ , he thought and the realization caused him to harden further between their bodies; something which was lost on neither of them.

“Charlie, I want you.”

His heart flipped a little at the simple statement. God, if only she knew how much the little things undid him, he thought. As if the punctuate her request, he felt a warm wetness begin to mimic his own arousal. Perhaps the little things undid her as well. His hands went to her hips and massaged her soft curves gently, sending tiny trills of electricity up her torso where his warm fingertips made contact with her cool skin. Skimming her neck and shoulders with the barest touch of warm breath, he caused her shivering to transmute into expectant shaking. When his mouth dipped downwards towards an aroused breast, he circled her nipple slowly before tracing its shape with the tip of his tongue. The anticipation of his touch moved her visibly as her shaking was accompanied by little gasps and she closed her eyes awaiting his next move. His lips closed in on her and began to suck gently as one of his hands traced the line of her back up to her shoulder blade. The tickling and sucking caused her body to flush again with warmth, which banished the cool of the drizzle that now slicked her entire back. Charlie teased her with his teeth, brushing them across her pert nipple while still attending to her gently – she breathed in through her teeth but didn’t stop him, instead leaning closer into his mouth. His other hand reached up and cupped her other breast, rolling her nipple casually between his fingers. Her shaking continued, and when she softly called out his name, he was proud to hear the ache of desire in her voice. He could move her as much as she moved him, he thought.

He was no longer satisfied to feel her quake in his embrace: he wanted to make her moan with her need for him. He released her breast and caught her lips in his, giving her a deep, warm kiss that brought her back to him. His hands moved to cradle her waist and brace her back.

“Hold on to me.” He rasped, and she complied by locking her arms around his neck.

Quickly, and seemingly without effort, he flipped them both so that his back was facing the cave opening. With soft pressure, he leaned into her and pressed her back into the cave floor, guiding her with the pressure of his kiss instead of his hands. Breaking away from her mouth with a little moan, he scattered tiny pecks down her neck, through the heaving valley of her breasts, around her navel, and then further south. Evey wiggled her hips in anticipation, but his hands stilled her by anchoring them to the cave floor. The storm outside was in full fury, releasing a tremendous clap of thunder that reverberated in the cave. Evey jumped slightly but Charlie was lost in pleasing her and paid no attention as he slid down between her wet thighs massaging the pressure points of her legs with skilled thumbs. The massaging relaxed her muscles and warmed her, preparing her for him. Her thighs opened further and her scent enveloped him. No two people smell quite the same, and Evey’s scent drove him to distraction every single time. He could not imagine anyone smelling as good as she did, but there was one thing better than her scent: and that was her taste. Once again, he warmed her skin with his breath to signal his passage, and then delicately slid the tip of his tongue into her folds. While still massaging her inner thighs, and using the barest pressure to navigate, Charlie outlined her entry with his tongue and gloried in the steady moaning that it was producing in Evey. He roamed about, guided by instinct, until he found her sensitive core, and circled it with steady determination and pressure. Evey called to him, as if in a dream, and pushed herself towards his mouth, trying to get more of him inside her. His lips closed over the small button and began to suck as he had on her breast, which elicited the cries that he sought. 

Evey’s hands found the rough surface of Charlie’s head between her legs and pushed him further downwards. She was alternately crying out his name and begging monosyllabically for him to end her torture, despite that being the exact opposite of what she wished. As he applied pressure with his lips, a fresh rush of wetness warmed her and she knew that she would not last if he continued with his methodical progress.

“Charlie!” she gasped, “Please hurry! I can’t…. I can’t…”

From between her legs, she felt his voice reverberate against her skin.

“Oh, yes you can, my petal. And what’s more, _you will!_ ”

“You demon!” she cried. His laugh was deep and full.

“A demon who loves you is like no other. And this outcast from paradise loves you so very, very much…”

With that he thrust his tongue deeply into her and licked hungrily at her wetness. Evey gasped and moaned loudly but he was lost in his own delighted noises. Her taste was salty and sweet at the same time; unlike anything else that he had known. Moaning from his own pleasure, he sent vibrations through her sensitive core that caused her hips to arch and shake with renewed arousal. His own needs, largely forgotten until this moment, made their presence known as his erection pulsed and moved against his stomach eager to find a home in her. Charlie regretfully tore himself away from her and dragged his body up along hers until he lay across her: shoulder to shoulder, breast to breast, and groin to groin. Pinning his cock between them in order to keep himself in control, he eagerly kissed her, knowing that she would love the taste of herself on his lips.

They groaned together, as if sharing the same sound and passing it back and forth between them, and their bodies writhed against one another finding new pleasures in unexpected friction. Evey raised her legs and locked them around his hips, grinding his erection painfully into them both. A pulse, like an underwater explosion, throbbed through him and wetness dampened the small space between them. Evey responded with a much larger release that soaked her inner thighs and smeared against his hips as they moved. She cried out his name, and he knew that they were both well past playing games.

The storm had increased in intensity and now thunderclaps and lightening flashes were rattling the cave every minute or so. Charlie’s back was soaked from the rain blowing into the cave, and Evey’s hands slid sinuously over his scars as she tried to get a grip on him. Charlie pushed her hips down to free himself and then slipped between her legs and pushed himself into her. She cried out almost immediately in protracted longing, but her voice was drowned out by an enormous thunderclap that shook the cave. He cried softly too as her warm, wet folds wrapped around him. He remained still for a moment, up to the hilt in her, and he swore that he could feel her pulsating through him like a heartbeat. He pulled out entirely and re-entered her to experience that sensation again, causing Evey to cry out once more with greater zeal. He began to move rhythmically within her and soon both of their moans and gasps came in evenly spaced pauses. She grabbed his waist and pulled him to her. He clutched her buttocks and angled her hips upwards. Charlie moaned and whimpered with caged desire, and leaned down onto Evey’s chest muttering things into her neck that she only half understood. She gripped his chest fiercely in her arms and raked her teeth across the roughened skin of his shoulder, finally sinking her teeth deeply into him. He screamed and moved his head from her neck, then dipped again offering her his other shoulder. Again she nipped and skimmed his throbbing shoulder muscle until he moved within her in just the right way, and she bit into him with all of her lust. He cried out again stopping only when he caught her mouth in his and tasted his blood in it. His tongue lashed at her lips and teeth, working her mouth as hard as he was working her body. His pace was becoming punishing and unbearable; it wouldn’t be long now. He broke away from her mouth and stared into her eyes, their noses almost touching.

“Say you believe in me!” he growled.

“Huh?” Evey was lost in her unstoppable climax.

“Tell me that you believe in me – nothing else matters!” Charlie leaned into her neck once more. “I _need_ to hear it!”

Thunder rattled, lightening flashed, the wind and rain blew for all it was worth as Evey brushed her lips across Charlie’s ear.

“My fiend – my loving demon – you are the _only_ thing that I believe in.”

A howl escaped from somewhere, Evey could not be sure if it was the wind or Charlie, and he reared away from her grasp, rolled back onto his knees, and raised her hips clear off the cave floor in both hands. He pounded into her again and again, striving to go as deep as he could every time. Within seconds of finding her perfect spot, she shook with uncontrolled pleasure that flooded their seam and electrified every fiber of her with spent release. He continued his assault on her until the pressure building in his spine, knifed its way into his groin and he had no choice but to push it out through him and into her. One last time, he grabbed her hips and rammed them into him, as he erupted high and deep within her. His pelvis spasmed uncontrollably as his body made every attempt to drain its reserves into Evey, finally collapsing on top of her.

The wind howled balefully and blew cold, stinging rain over both of them as they lay still. Charlie’s weight settled over Evey as a warm burden, and she cradled his torso until his breathing stilled and his heartbeat slowed in his chest. They both moaned softly like those who have been through a great ordeal do trying to regain the power of speech. Eventually, he groaned and rolled off her chest, snuggling into her side instead. He found one of the discarded oilskins and pulled it over both of them, and then kissed her shoulder as his arms gathered her into his warmth. She saw the bloody bite marks on his shoulders, suddenly in a flash of lightening, and she touched them gently.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be.” He whispered. “I enjoyed it immensely.”

She sighed and curled into his chest as thunder shook the cave again. Charlie traced a light pattern on her arm over and over again hypnotically. Evey drifted somewhere between waking and daydreaming, listening to rain and feeling Charlie’s fingers. When he finally spoke, she was not sure if she was awake or not.

“Evey, do you want children?”

She roused herself against him, not sure what to say to him. When she did not answer, he continued.

“It’s probably something that I should have inquired about before I asked you to marry me…”

“Umm, why? Do you want children, Charlie?”

“Well… it’s just that… with all of the drugs and experiments… I, I…” he couldn’t finish.

“You think that you’re sterile.” She ended his thought for him.

“Yes.” His voice was coloured by shame. “I’ve always thought that it was a minor miracle that I could… perform at all.”

Evey sighed and raised herself up on her elbows to look at him.

“Charlie, I would like to have children, but it wouldn’t destroy me if we never did. All I’ve ever really wanted was you. Whether you can father a child or not, that’s _still_ what I want. Besides, you don’t know that you’re infertile, do you?”

He shook his head, no.

“I would like to give you a child, Evey.” He said quietly.

“I think that we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves here, but I don’t see why we can’t act as if it’s possible and keep trying.” She stroked his cheek with her hand. “It just means that we’ll have to practice. A lot.”

She grinned at him and he laughed louder than he had intended, so relieved was he that she was up for yet another “Charlie challenge”. He grabbed her by the shoulders and rolled over onto her.

“Mmmmmmm. Practice!” he enthused.

“What? Already?!” Evey giggled. “That was quick…”

“Superhuman healing has its benefits.” He chuckled as he bent to suckle her neck.

“Practice. Practice. Practice.” He mumbled as she laughed and the storm continued to rage around them.


	12. Separate Paths

After the afternoon on the heath, things proceeded more calmly for both Charlie and Evey. The enigmatic light and darkness of October smoothed into the grayness of November, with the increasing chill, northern air being the only real sign of time passing them by. They spent the ensuing weeks becoming familiar with each other once more, trying to recover their equilibrium from the chaos that marked the onset of their intimacy. It was easy to fall in love in such a place; one could imagine that there were no cares beyond your own snuggled in the stone farmhouse waiting for the first snows to arrive. This was the land of Catherine and Heathcliff after all – epic affairs romped in the heather like rabbits. The desire to cocoon and wait out the storms of their future was strong, but also illusory as all it took was a random thought or a reference to London to bring them back to the pressing need for resolution. Their life together was merely temporary until the blight on the horizon could be erased, and they both knew it, so that it sliced at their happiness in tiny, sharp cuts. 

Charlie developed a strange closeness with Mr. Bowles and his son, Gerald. What the cranky farmer, his dying son, and a strange outlaw found to pass the time together was a mystery to Evey, but often Charlie would disappear across the fields to Mr. Bowles’ farm and not return until well after dark, often with more than a few pints in him. Charlie brought back with him stories of Mr. Bowles’ ribald humor, his hilarious love/hate relationship with his long dead wife, and his stubbornness in all things Yorkshire, but mostly he came home with stories of Gerald. 

Gerald was English by way of Mumbai, and of course, his name wasn’t Gerald – that’s just what Mr. Bowles had named him when he found him. Gerald had the unfortunate luck to be one of the last foreigners to immigrate to England just before the borders were closed and the Reclamation began in earnest. He had been a child then and had only lived in England for a few months before he and his entire family was herded into a “non-native resettlement camp”. Gerald had been separated from his family there, never to see them again, and sent to a medical facility that sounded eerily like Larkhill. Though the memories of his treatments were spotty at best, he did remember the bodies, and the smell of the ovens, and the sting of the lye on his hands, as he and a few others buried what couldn’t be burned. He spent several years there, grew up under the clinical ministrations of doctors and guards, and when he failed to die as the others had, he was taught a trade and then summarily released. The head doctor found him a job as a machinist’s assistant in a Hindu ghetto just north of London, and Gerald thought kindly on the man who had patted him on the back and told him to “go and make something of your life”. He was disfigured, but skilled and one of their own, so the community welcomed him in. When small outbreaks of St. Mary’s Virus were reported, he thought it merely the vagaries of bad karma; after all, people were dying of the disease all over England. But the virus spread quickly, and soon almost everyone was dead or dying – everyone but Gerald. The community was a closed, self-sustaining system. They were cut off from all white, government-sanctioned operations or supplies: there was no way for the virus to get in, unless introduced by an outside source. The realization that Gerald had been released only to be used as a plague dog to destroy his own kind was too much for him to bear. He fled into the northern countryside and lived as an animal, avoiding any human contact for fear of dragging death along with him. When Mr. Bowles found him, he had been an exile from life for over 7 years. By then, there were drug therapies and “the cure” for those exposed, so when Mr. Bowles opened his home to him, he stayed and tried to recall how to be human again. It was clear that Mr. Bowles loved his adopted son very much and had tried to shelter him from any danger or prejudice, but Gerald had been caught up in the medical testing that had swept through the countryside a few years earlier. After that, his disease, held at bay by drug therapy, began to advance once more, and he realized that he had been used again. The final irony was that he had been used to kill, but could not die himself – not without the help of those who had created him to destroy and survive in the first place. He was a dirty soldier in an unacknowledged war that was too stubborn to lie down and be memorialized. For Gerald’s part, he seemed to be relieved that he was dying, and considering his story Charlie could not blame him.

Evey was privately disturbed by Gerald’s tale. Getting over the initial shock that such obvious genocide could be perpetrated in her country while good people stood by and did nothing, the personal implications of Gerald’s life came into focus. Through their research of Vervain MedCom and the nature of the two assaults against Charlie, she had assumed that Susan wanted him for medical research: testing and experimentation, not extermination. What if Susan had just found a rather large loose end and was cleaning up after herself? Evey’s resolve to destroy her enemy and end the threat remained the same, but her nervous tension ratcheted up a few more notches. She was aware that Charlie was formulating his own plan that most likely consisted of a physical confrontation of some kind. Evey was hoping to come up with a solution that kept him as far from the Vervain MedCom building as humanly possible. She did not want him breathing the same air as these people, and if she could find an underhanded way of ensuring that they forget that Charlie existed, then _that_ was the plan that they were going with. Period. As a means to this end, Evey took advantage of Charlie’s new social circle to take the car and drive to the Leeds archive often. As they wanted as few people as possible to know about Charlie, she did most of the running around in town for supplies, and she dealt with the locals exclusively. Once she even drove down to London for a quick meeting with Eric and to retrieve a few things from her flat, but when she returned Charlie had been out of his mind with worry. He had raged for a good 30 minutes about the stupidity of returning to London alone and without telling him.

“What if something had happened to you, Evey? I’m so out of touch up here that I might as well be on the moon! What would possess you not to tell me!” 

“Well, this little tantrum of yours, for one…” she mumbled.

“Tantrum? You don’t think that I’m justified in my ire, or do you just enjoy provoking me?” His face was turning an odd mottled red that she had never seen before. In fact, she had never seen him this out of control before. 

“And how would I come for you, if something _had_ happened? You took the car, so, what, I was supposed to roll into London on Mr. Bowles’ 50 year old tractor?!”

The mental image was hilarious and Evey chuckled despite herself. It was the wrong reaction to the moment.

“You’ve got a bloody nerve laughing at my concern, woman! After the things that you said to me in that cave… What makes you think that you have a monopoly on the fear of losing something precious?!” He was shaking now.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you that it ate me up the entire time that I was lying to you?” She rose to comfort him but he swatted her away.

“Yes!” he yelled.

“Then, feel better!” she yelled back.

The cottage was quiet for a moment, with only the happy crackle of the fireplace to mark the time’s passage. Charlie moved to the mantle and leaned heavily against it.

“Goddammit, Evelyn, you’ll be the death of me.” He mumbled as if speaking to the fire. “Don’t you know that you shave years off my life when you fling yourself into these things… years! I’m old, you know – it’s not good for me.”

She smiled at the thought as she walked up behind him and wrapped his back with her arms. This time he did not fight her effort.

“I’m sorry, Charlie – truly I am. I should have told you that I was going…”

“Or not gone in the first place.” He interjected.

“Whatever.” She kissed the back of his shirt and he turned to look at her. “Please don’t call me Evelyn – it makes you sound like my father instead of my husband.”

“I do what I must to keep you in line.” A reluctant smile curled his lips.

“Mmmmmmm.” Evey arched an eyebrow at him. “I guess that this would be a bad time to tell you that I’m going to Leeds tomorrow, huh?”

“Oh, Evey!”

\-----------------------------

Evey watched Charlie in the greenhouse as she finished her coffee and toast. Sera was with him. Sera was the daughter of another local farmer and she came twice weekly to tend to the plants, the garden when it was in season, and generally keep the house ship shape. She did not have St. Mary’s but there was something odd about her nonetheless. She did not speak and was skitterish around most people, preferring not to make eye contact at all. For some reason, she had taken to Charlie almost as soon as he had arrived. He was quiet and calm around her, never saying much, and when he did always using a gentle tone. Being an accomplished gardener himself, he showed her a few tricks here and there which she mimicked back to him. The two of them were pruning a fruit tree together in silence, but it was as if they were having a conversation with their hands. His fingers deftly separated a selected stem from the main branch and snipped it free with his thumb and index finger, then his hand indicated that she do the same. She repeated his movements as his head nodded once in approval. She pointed to another stem to which he indicated an alternate selection instead, then offered her the mulch bucket for the leavings in her other hand. It was like a secret language. 

Charlie’s affinity for collecting damaged people around him was a source of constant wonder to Evey. They treated him like their exiled king. And he tailored his reactions to them individually, never generalizing or assuming anything about their characters. Perhaps he was trying to rediscover part of himself through them; it must have been a challenge after being so different for so long. Life would not wait for the world to get used to him, so perhaps he thought that he would get used to it instead. Maybe he focused on broken people because he thought that everyone deserved another chance. Sera was clearly broken in some fundamental way that no one seemed prepared to discuss. Evey liked her, but was also a little jealous of her private world with Charlie. Evey knew that she held Charlie’s heart and tried not to begrudge Sera, Gerald, and Mr. Bowles the care that Charlie gave to them. He had grown very fond of them very quickly, and that too was precious in Evey’s eyes.

She roused herself and rinsed out her coffee mug. Walking through the greenhouse, she said her goodbyes. Charlie continued pruning without turning, but Sera turned and gave her a quick smile before hiding her face back in the leaves of the fruit tree. Evey was shocked by both of their reactions, but turned and walked towards the driveway without comment. She heard no footsteps behind her but felt his presence even before he grabbed her arm.

“Evey…” 

She raised her eyebrows, waiting.

“Please, be cautious.” He murmured.

She took his hand in hers and squeezed.

“It’s the archive, Charlie, not an armed camp. I’ll be back by supper. And, yes, I _will_ be cautious: I won’t talk to strangers and I’ll look both ways before crossing the street.”

“I’m being serious.” He said.

“So am I. I have a gun in my bag.” She retorted.

“Mmph.” He groaned. “Don’t shoot anyone, my love – Eric’s too far away to help.” He kissed her forehead.

“Just for you, I’ll count to 10 before I allow the gun rage to take hold of me.” She chuckled as she kissed his lips and then turned towards the car.

“That’s my girl.” He whispered.

\------------------------------------------

 

The main room of the archive was bustling with students, researchers and everyday folk trying to escape the dreary November weather, but the private reading room was empty. Evey sat at a private booth and called up the archive monitor. She was not sure what she was looking for anymore; she had sat here so often in the past month and gleaned nothing from the massive amount of files that she had trolled through. Something had to exist that could help: something she could use as blackmail, or some fraudulent activity that the authorities could use to investigate Vervain and shut them down. It was frustrating because she knew that there was a way to get to everyone, she just could not see it and feared that she might not find it in time.

Her morning coffee wore off quickly, and after an hour of mindless searching she decided to risk the librarian’s wrath and sneak in a cup of courage to help her along. She found a dispenser in the main lobby that she knew from experience produced coffee as black and stiff as the Devil’s heart, and purchased a cup. Successfully concealing her treachery with her handbag, so made her way back to her private booth, only to find someone sitting there waiting for her.

“Sorry, I was using this terminal.” Evey tried to be polite.

“I’m not interested in the terminal, Miss Hammond. I came here for you.”

The woman before Evey was a vision of casual beauty. Long, wavy auburn hair framed a face of remarkable delicacy, but that contained no mark of haughtiness that the naturally beautiful often wear. She was thin and perhaps too tall for a woman, but her legs crossed casually as if she was at ease with her body’s relationship to its surroundings. She wore faded jeans, old boots and a trim wool coat that was just the right shade of olive to offset her hair and her penetrating gaze. She looked like a student – the kind of student that professors leave their wives for. She smiled quickly and kindly but her eyes were indifferent, waiting to catch the slightest insight into her opponent. 

“But, where are my manners?” She gestured to the chair next to her. “Please sit and enjoy your coffee. I promise, I won’t say a word.”

Evey hesitated as her guest winked conspiratorially and offered her hand.

“I’m Sidney Sumner. I understand that you’ve been looking for me.”

Evey sat as if she had had the wind knocked out of her. Unconsciously, she clutched her handbag closer to her.

“In one of those weird twists of fate, _I_ have been looking for you.” Sidney laughed.

“How did you get in here?” Evey whispered.

“Oh, I know a guy, who knows a guy…” she purred.

Evey sighed as she tried to accept what was presenting itself.

“I’m surprised that it took you this long to find us.”

“Well, honestly I’ll admit, you two have been quite the elusive quarry. I’m still very impressed with how you dispatched the first retrieval team. I have re-designed some basic training tactics as a result of that event. But that’s not why I’m here, my dear.” She leaned forward and placed a reassuring hand on Evey’s arm, as Evey tried very hard not to flinch.

“I have a proposition for you: one that can end this waiting game and save your husband in the process. It will involve a certain amount of trust on your part, but after you hear what I have to say, I believe that the trust will come easier. Will you listen to what I have to say, Evelyn?” Sidney’s eyes looked into Evey’s as the women sized each other up.

“Or are you going to jerk that automatic out of your handbag and go to work on me?”

\--------------------------------------

 

Evey did not arrive back at Briar House until well after dark. The car’s headlights strafed across the driveway as she eased it into park and highlighted Charlie’s glowering form at the edge of the garden. She sat in the car for a second and breathed deeply in order to calm her shaking heart. She reached for the door release and whimpered as she saw that her hands were visibly vibrating; even in the minimal light, he was sure to notice. She sent up a private prayer that she would be able to pull this off.

“Evey, where have you been? It’s nearly 10, and the archive has been closed for hours!” 

He appeared at the driver’s side door in that preternatural way that always freaked her out a bit. His silver eyes flashed in the darkness and her heart leapt into her throat on a combination of nerves, reluctance and love. Could she ever forgive herself?

“Sidney Sumner found me at the archive.” She said without preamble. “She wants me to hand you over to her and Susan, and I’m considering accepting her offer.”


	13. Things Change. People Change.

The transmutation of feeling from the clinical green-white of the lab hallway to the muted softness of the office’s ochres and crimson struck Sidney oddly every time she made the journey. It always required a moment of adjustment: both physically and emotionally. Both spaces reflected aspects of Andrea Susan’s personality, and both of these environments could be deeply disturbing under the wrong circumstances. On the whole, Sidney thought that she preferred the cold, clinical feel of the lab – mostly because it was something that she comprehended, and she always knew where she stood when she dealt with Susan, the scientist. The office was more personal, more inviting, and warm but, ultimately, it was a side of her mother that was rarely seen or acknowledged, and highly unpredictable. Dr. Andrea Susan could shake your hand or strike you down and there would be no warning about it either way beforehand; not even for her only child. 

Sidney padded softly across the plush carpet towards her mother’s desk at the far end of the long, dim room. All four walls were stacked, floor to ceiling in precise order, with medical tomes, physician’s journals, and meticulously bound copies of endless experimental data acquired over years of research – both Dr. Susan’s own and those of her contemporaries. The room appeared dim because its only light source were sconces above the book shelves that lit up towards the room’s domed ceiling, lending the office the grandeur of a cathedral or a particularly lovely library. Susan sat behind her mammoth walnut desk under the unforgiving glare of her desk lamp reading something with rapt attention. Sidney was not fooled though; her mother was never caught by surprise on her own turf and had worked hard to maintain the almost psychic awareness of every inch of her strange, scientific fiefdom over the years. She did not raise her eyes from her text as Sidney approached but, her daughter knew that she was formulating her line of questioning _while_ she was reading.

“You have returned sooner than expected.” She said without preamble. “And alone, I see.”

“Hello, Mother. It’s lovely to see you too.” Sidney managed to say it with only the slightest note of annoyed sarcasm.

Andrea looked up from her reading and stared at Sidney over the rim of her glasses for a moment, and then let the comment go without further consideration. Sidney inwardly tensed – her mother drove her nuts. Why must she always judge her and test her like one of her infernal experiments? Would there ever be acceptance of Sidney as the person that she had become instead of seeing her as a random, rebellious variable to be controlled lest she mar the outcome of events? More than once in her life, Sidney Sumner had pined for a hug-giving, cookie-baking, romance novel-reading mother instead of the driven, cold, and determined one that had been her genetic booby prize. Though there were many things to admire about Andrea Susan, her people skills were not among them. Andrea arched an eyebrow at her daughter.

“So, you, too, have failed, as your operatives did before you.”

Sidney channeled the offense into her fists and fought to keep her voice calm and even. Losing her temper had never impressed her mother.

“On the contrary – I have achieved what you wanted. He will be here in two days. And, for the record: my operatives ‘failed’ because they lacked appropriate intel on the subject. You may run this lab and sign my operatives’ paychecks, but you know nothing of tactical evaluation and deployment. The next time to subvert the chain of command in my department you can find yourself another head of security.” Sidney’s voice hardened to a fine point but never rose above a whisper as she leaned over her mother’s desk. “In a daytrip and conversation, I accomplished what you thoughtlessly sacrificed 6 lives for in vain. If you cannot see the human waste of this, at least think of it as the fruitless depletion of a valuable business resource.”

Andrea stared at her daughter once again. Though her face was unreadable, Sidney knew that Andrea would see the logic in her statement. Emotional arguments were useless, but Andrea could not resist the pull of rationality and fiscal prudence. Eventually, she nodded in agreement.

“Yes, I see your point. I apologize, Sidney – I should leave these matters to you, and I will, in future.” Andrea leaned back in her chair, out of the lamplight and into shadow. “Please tell me what transpired between you and Five.”

“I did not deal with Five. I located his wife instead and negotiated with her.”

“His _wife_?” Andrea spat the word from her mouth. “So, you have no idea where he is or how to obtain him. How could you be so gullible?”

“Wait to hear it all, Mother.” Sidney warned. “Yes, he has apparently taken a wife. She is quite intelligent and does not appear to be mentally ill, which you might find interesting given your concerns about Five’s mental stability and his social interface…”

Sidney pulled up a chair and lounged into it, stretching her long legs out before her.

“She seems quite determined to protect him, and had not been scared off by our 2 previous attempts, so I decided that reasoning – not violence – was our best alternative in this situation. She has uncovered a lot of information about you’re work, both before and after The Reclamation, so there was no disguising that we wanted Five for testing. I told her that we did not want to kill him, but that we _did_ need biological samples and were quite determined to get them. I told her that our resources were near inexhaustible, and made her understand what that meant. I told her that his physical condition is degenerative, and if left untested and untreated, he would be dead within 2 years as well as any hope of reversing similar conditions in others. She knows that there are others…” Sidney leaned forward slightly and paused after this statement for effect.

“I don’t care what she knows,” said Andrea evenly “One doesn’t _negotiate_ with a lab specimen. Would you have a morality debate with a single-cell organism on a slide as well, Sidney?”

“Five is hardly a lab rat, Mother. He is a cognitive, articulate being with connections to the outside world. We cannot simply scoop him up and ‘disappear’ all things connected with him: we are no longer living in Sutler’s world.”

“Yes,” Andrea sighed, “Your father was a narrow minded control freak, but his micro-managing dictatorship had its benefits. Sometimes I yearn for those times when there were fewer questions and less hindrances to those of us gifted with a higher _purpose_.”

Sidney bristled at any comments that her mother made about her father. Andrea had kept his identity from Sidney until after his murder a decade ago, thus ensuring that Sidney would never know him or hear anything about their story other than what _she chose_ to tell her. It was another form of control to Sidney. But now that Adam Sutler was safely dispatched, it was open season on ‘Daddy’ comments, which Andrea seemed to sprinkle liberally, and without thought of how they would affect her daughter.

“Anyway,” Sidney tried to focus on the matter at hand, “She said that she would bring him in personally in 2 days’ time.”

“And you believed her?” Her mother said incredulously.

“She loves him, Mother.” Sidney sighed, as she had to explain the obvious. “Yes, she could have dismissed my proposal as a pure fiction, and a clear attempt to lure them into a trap. But she couldn’t ignore the medical evidence that I provided, could she? He _is_ dying, and facing that truth, she opted for the slim chance of hope that I offered as opposed to the grim alternative.”

“Hmmm, yes. If he hadn’t had that Zomotrol prescription for his migraines, we might never have located him, or known that his condition was worsening.” Mused Andrea to herself. “What ‘slim chance of hope’ did you offer her, exactly?”

“That we’d try to help him and he would be able to live a normal lifespan in conjunction with aiding us in our own research.”

“Fine. Just so long as you didn’t promise that we would ever let him leave this facility…”

“But…” Sidney tried to cover her confusion. “If we get what we want from him, why do we need to keep him? He’s a person. She won’t accept abandoning him here like some unwanted pet…”

“Sidney, my dear, you are not a scientist: one does not throw away the discovery of a lifetime, no matter how much data you have extracted from it. There will always be new questions that need to be answered. Even if he dies – which he probably will – his body will still hold value to my research.” Andrea leaned forward into the light and picked up her tome once again.

“As for the wife, well, we’ll keep her too. In fact, it was a stroke of genius to have her bring him here: that way we can detain both of them – she may have great value.”

Sidney sat stone still in her chair; her eyes were the only indication of dismay.

“Why?” she whispered.

Andrea looked up from her book and over the rim of her glasses matter-of-factly.

“Because, if she’s had sexual relations with the subject, that would reveal something about his condition that we did not expect _and_ which could have tremendous impact on the project. If she’s also fertile, well… since we can’t let her make trouble for the lab and endanger the project, we might as well make good use of her. Besides, specimens often live longer if they have familiar objects or partners that offer them some comfort – yes, your idea to bring them both in was brilliant.”

Andrea waved her hand airily in Sidney’s direction indicating that the conversation was over. Sidney sat for a moment and stared at her mother as if she was something totally alien to her who had revealed it’s true form for the first time. Andrea was cold, detached, even unemotional, but until now, Sidney had never thought her inhuman. Sidney did not care about what happened to Evey Hammond or Charlie Tenley – she had nothing invested in their survival at all – but, being a bastard, she had a deep-seated resentment of any person being treated as a sub category to the rest of the species. Sidney saw now that her mother suffered no such compunction and viewed Evey’s reproductive system and Charlie’s biological information as resources no different from her test tubes or office supplies. Even Sidney’s dead operatives were just acceptable losses on a grand balance sheet. She wondered, with more than a little horror, if she were in Evey’s place, could her mother make the same decision concerning her value. It sickened her to know that without hesitation, without prevarication a small, quiet voice within her whispered the answer, ‘yes’.

\------------------------------------

 

“Charlie…” Evey whispered cautiously after explaining, at length, what she had discussed with Sidney Sumner in the Leeds archive.

Charlie stood still in the darkness. The only signs of life that he gave off were the puffs of warm air that haloed around his face in the chilly night. Evey leaned heavily against the car, shivering. She desperately wanted to go inside and chase the cold from her bones but she had a suspicion that her legs would not support the short journey – and, that the cold in her was not from the November air.

“Charlie… please, speak to me.”

“It’s hard to frame the words, so profound is my sense of betrayal…” he said finally.

A whimper escaped Evey as her mind raced to find justification for her actions. She wanted him to live. She wanted him to live so badly that nothing else mattered, not even his resentment. The medical evidence had been convincing and abundant, from several sources – mostly findings from autopsies performed on others who had undergone the same treatments during the same time period. If it had been crafted purely to persuade her, it was an elaborate and Byzantine concoction, and quite frankly, she was certain that neither Sidney nor Susan thought enough of either her or Charlie to go to such an effort. He was dying: the headaches, the increasing mental instability, even the uncontrolled violence that Evey had attributed to Charlie’s split personality, were all symptoms of the final phase whose unvarying outcome was death. Considering the timelines of the other “participants” in the camps, it was awe-inspiring that Charlie was still alive – and no wonder why his anomalous existence was so coveted by Vervain MedCom. It was obviously a trap – she was not that naïve, but it was also the only real option that they had. If Charlie launched a one-man assault on Vervain, and by some miracle, freed himself from Susan’s grasp and came back alive, he would still know nothing about his past, what was done to him, or how to cure this disease. He would die anyway and all of this would be for nothing; all of the time that they had wasted would be worthless, and a regret with which Evey could not live. What was more is that the atrocity perpetuated by Vervain and others on the innocent would continue. Only with information could they fight such organized, overwhelming victimization, and the only way to get that information was to go to the source.

“If you see what I have done as a betrayal, then you don’t really know me at all.” Evey was shaking uncontrollably but her voice was calm and steely. “After all that we’ve been through, after all that we’ve said to one another, if you believe that I could be so easily turned, then kill me now and be done with me. I could not bear to live knowing that you thought so little of me, anyway…” 

A moment passed between them that seemed to hang out of time, stretching in unbearable length from one to the other, and back again in an infinite loop of uncertainty. The moment pulled at the invisible string that bound them, trying desperately to snap it, but it stubbornly held fast and the effort only produced surprising pain for both of them. Just as suddenly as they fell out of time, they tumbled back in both feeling bruised and shaken by their private journey.

“I would never hurt you, Evey.” Charlie said quietly.

“Why do you assume that I would?” responded Evey just as quietly.

“You’re asking me to live in a cage. You _know_ what that means to me.”

“I’m asking you to live - not just now or 2 years from now, but as long as you possibly can. I’m asking you to make a _different decision_ than you did 10 years ago: don’t tell me that I mean the world to you and then accept your own death. They would’ve caught us eventually. By walking right into the lion’s den, we have a chance at getting answers and we might have a shot at saving you. To me, that’s worth the risk. How far would you go to keep all of this?” Evey gestured to the house, the mountain, and to everything that they had discovered in the last month together.

Silenced settled over them once more. The wind had picked up tossing dried leaves in swirling eddies across the driveway and out of sight down to the rill. Evey’s hair formed into angry tangles in the wind’s clutches, and despite everything that he felt, Charlie had the desire to grab up her hair in his fingers and lose himself in those soft, wild curls.

“If you have a better plan, then I’m all ears.” She concluded when he continued to say nothing.

“No.” He said. “I know what you say is true, and I understand your reasons, but I still can’t believe that either one of us would accept this.” His body slumped almost imperceptibly, but Evey noticed it even in the darkness. “I overthrew an entire government, and you built a new one – why can’t we come up with a better plan than this?”

Evey shrugged and felt her spine slumping too. Her teeth were chattering, but strangely, she no longer felt the cold.

“It doesn’t matter how smart or brave you are, if you have no options, you take what’s given to you, I suppose.” She sighed.

“It’s settled then. We’ll head back tomorrow.” He affirmed.

“Tomorrow? Sidney doesn’t expect us for 2 days…”

“So much the better. Perhaps we’ll catch them off guard a bit.” He walked past her towards the house. “Come inside before we both freeze to death.”

The two walked one after another like the condemned walk to the gallows.

\------------------------------------

 

Evey lay in bed knowing that sleep would never come. She had done it. She had convinced the man that she loved to give up and surrender to the enemy. She felt ill, she felt beaten all over, and she also felt that it was the only thing that they could do if they had any hope of getting clear of this mess. Charlie lay on the opposite side of the bed. He had not touched her since she had given him the news. She was amazed that he had agreed to stay in the same room with her. This might be their last night together and they might as well have been on different continents. Evey had never felt so alone – even that night in the alley with the Fingermen, before he had intervened, there had always been a spark of… something in her. But not now. What if he had walked on by that night? What if he had let her be raped and captured? Where would she be today if she had never met him? What sort of person would she have become without his influence? She had asked these questions often enough over the last 10 years, but had always chased them away before really thinking about the answers. Now, with the consequences of that night’s acquaintance unfurled completely, she had nothing left but to answer those maddening ‘what ifs’. She tried to imagine a life without hope or options. She tried to imagine a world where she did not know him, or Eric, or Dominic. She tried to imagine an England that was devoid of Geralds and Seras; where the kindheartedness of Mr. Bowles would be punished. She tried to imagine a life without his touch, or his voice, or the sense of blissful communion when he was inside of her. She tried to erase every memory of him from her for a moment to try to understand what it would feel like, but he was still there wrapped around every tendon, every bone, every fiber and every breath of her. The panic set in then, and the emotions that she had kept at bay all evening rocked her and, quietly, the levies broke. She cried silently and curled herself into the smallest form that she could manage on the furthest edge of the bed. When her shaking became uncontrollable, the mattress shifted and arms drew her into him.

“Shhhhhhhh, don’t. Shhhhhhhhhhhh.” He whispered over the top of her head as he rocked her against him.

“I’m sorry, oh God, I’m sorry,” she sobbed into his chest, “Please forgive me, pleasepleaseplease…”

“Stop it, petal, there’s nothing to forgive.”

She pulled her head out of his chest and grabbed his face suddenly with both hands.

“Leave here tomorrow – leave before I wake. Just walk away from all of this and hide! You’ve done it before: you hid for 20 years. If you go underground again, they’ll never find you. I won’t be able to tell them anything because I won’t know where you’ve gone! Maybe it was all a lie – the medical data, the promise of a cure – everything! You could make it on your own! You could survive!” Her voice was becoming hysterical.

“What would be the point, Evey? I cannot be alone any longer – I don’t know how.” He kissed her tear-stained cheeks lightly and she noticed that his face was wet too. “I don’t see the point in merely existing, and that’s all life would be without you, my love. I want it all: you, a home, a family, friends, a purpose – I don’t want to live on half rations anymore. So, if I can’t have that, as horrible as it would be for you to endure, I guess that I’d rather be dead.”

Her sobbing had stopped but she found no suitable response to his statement. She just leaned her head against his chest and listened to the slow, rhythmic beating of his heart. In an instant, she wondered how old he was, as if reaching a certain age would soften the blow of one’s life ending prematurely somewhat. She chased away the meaningless query, which was then replaced by a profound regret that she would never give him a child. He had given a lot of himself away in the course of 3 decades, and yet he would not have even the small satisfaction of knowing that a fraction of him would continue on after he was gone in a son or a daughter. Even monkeys in the zoo had that distinction. 

“I love you.” She said simply. “The word doesn’t seem big enough for all that I feel, Charlie. It’s not fair. There’s so much that I wanted to give to you – but, I waited too long…”

“You’ve seen to me well enough, Evey.” He sighed into her hair. “I’ve lived so much in these past 5 years. And in the last 2 months I have experienced things that I never dreamed were possible for me – I have no regrets. Truth be told, I had finished my preparations for facing Susan some time ago…”

“You had?” Evey’s head was cloudy from crying but she was not missing out on anything that was said. “You made preparations to confront Susan at Vervain? Why didn’t you tell me, and why were you putting it off if you were ready?”

“Of course I was preparing myself. I knew that they would never give up. I didn’t tell you because there’s no good moment to discuss what seems tantamount to a suicide mission with the one you love. And besides…. I needed more time.”

“More time for what? You said that you were ready…”

“I needed more time… for you.” He said almost bashfully. “I wanted to spend just a few more weeks with you. I guess, maybe, I thought that I could cram a lifetime into a month or so…” His voice cracked ever so slightly at the end.

Evey found his lips in the dark and held him in a long, loving kiss. She pulled him as closely to her as possible wrapping her arms around him and tracing the scars across his back. Her legs entwined through his and as their hips met she felt his arousal press into her. She smiled against his mouth at the sensation and he leaned away a little.

“What’s funny?”

“Not a damn thing.” She said. “I was just lying here thinking about all the things that we’ll miss out on together, and then I feel you close to me and realize just… how… _alive_ we are right now! You know that cliché: where there’s life, there’s hope? Well, all clichés get their start in truth. Maybe, because we cling to this impossible life of ours so tenaciously, we might yet succeed.”

It was a ridiculous sentiment, but Charlie could not help but chuckle a little at it. They had burned away everything but blind faith and Evey was making the best of what was left. He kissed her deeply again.

“We still have a little time… to make a few more memories…” he whispered as his lips brushed her ear.

Evey rolled him onto his back and laid the length of her body along the length of his, scooping her hands under him and holding him close. He traced the slow curve of her back with one hand and brushed curls off her face with the other, cupping her cheek. 

“I choose to believe that we have more than a little time, Charlie. You asked me to believe in you, and I do – I really do. We will win this fight, or die trying, okay?”

“Okay.” He said, suddenly feeling euphoric at the prospect of a partnership that might defy death itself.

He pulled her face towards him slowly, intending to relish every moment of their passion. He privately hoped that it would sustain them both for the battle ahead, and whatever remained once the smoke settled.


	14. Unexpected Guest

V awoke suddenly and blinked rapidly in panic – he had no idea where he was. The room was flooded with warm, bright light, and the blues and creams that surrounded him bore no resemblance to the Gallery or Charlie’s flat at all. Similarly shocking was his physical predicament: he was naked and entwined around Evey who was snoring lightly into his chest. Oh God, he thought, this is not right at all. He had never so much as removed his mask in her presence, but now he found himself assailed by her warmth and her scent and the thousand sensory pinpoints between them that forced a massive wave of arousal to flood through him chasing the high of his adrenalin surge. He was going to overload if he did not get out of that bed immediately – and he _still_ did not know why he was there instead of Charlie.

V disengaged himself from Evey’s sleeping form and stood at the edge of the bed looking down at her. He had dreamed of this sight – Evey, happily asleep and disarmingly disheveled in his bed – but had never had the pleasure of knowing that it was _his_ memory and not Charlie’s. He had not caused her to be in this state, and she would not welcome him into her embrace if she knew that it was he, not her husband that lurked under this skin. He was a lost interloper in a land that he had heard of but never seen for himself.

The nature of Charlie and V’s relationship was complicated. Unlike the traditional pathology of the split personality, there did not appear to be a dominant entity, and they were both aware of each other. V strongly suspected that he came into being shortly after Charlie’s internment at Larkhill, mostly because he seemed to have no memories from any time before that. If so, that would make V a creation of Charlie’s mind, but, as V had survived Larkhill and gone on to plan and commit his vendetta for 20 odd years, it might also be that Charlie was a creation of V’s mind. However it worked out, they were both in love with the same woman, but she only loved one of them. While V was aware of everything that happened to Charlie, it was much in the way of having someone _tell_ you the story of a memory, rather than having the sensory recall itself. V was aware of every moment but had never felt any of it.

V suddenly looked away from Evey and down at himself and groaned with embarrassment to witness his own enormous and persistent erection. He looked around frantically and grabbed a robe from behind the door, then absconded to the chilly bathroom to tend to himself. 20 minutes passed, as V remained breathless and shaky sitting on the bathtub ledge while pressing his forehead against the cool porcelain of the sink. He usually did not have a problem adjusting to his ‘reappearance’ – he almost always knew when it was going to happen, like the night that he torched the Valkyrie Press building – but dealing with Evey was always unsettling for him. He sighed as he silently admitted that it was that very reticence that made Charlie the better choice for her, despite his own private, boundless love. Clearly, he was here to deal with Susan at Vervain, but he had not expected to ‘arrive’ in the middle of Charlie and Evey’s private life. He straightened up and stared out the window at the misty beacon and was momentarily transfixed. It really was unbelievably beautiful here – he had a small feeling of gratitude at being able to experience it firsthand instead of through Charlie’s memories. As he came back to himself, he knew that he had to push through Susan and Vervain, just as he had pushed through Sutler and Creedy and Norsefire 10 years previously – he had to do it for Evey and Charlie, for this place, and for his own sense of peace. The scale was no different than before; the odds no better or worse. He just had to push until he succeeded, or until there was nothing left of him. But first, he’d have to go back to the bedroom and find some clothes. He steeled himself to it and strode back to the room and quietly rooted around for some pants.

“Hi.” Evey blinked sleepily from the pillows.

“Oh, good morning, my cherub.” V replied awkwardly, still unsuccessful in his search for pants. “Was I too boisterous? I had not intended on waking you…”

Evey’s smile faded and she blinked rapidly. She slowly drew herself up from the pillows, being careful to keep her body modestly covered.

“Where’s Charlie?” she whispered coldly.

V was dumbstruck. How could she possibly tell that it was he in such a short space of time? Because she _knew_ Charlie – she knew every inch of him – in a way that V had always wanted to be known by her. They lived in the same body, but he and Charlie were two different men and he could not disguise himself from her. He was embarrassed and enraged: embarrassed because he could not control himself in front of this woman, and enraged because she could unman him so easily and that she did not want him, though she was happy to give herself completely to his doppelganger. 

“I don’t know.” He said finally, as his shoulders slumped. “I just woke up here. I apologize for the, err, inappropriateness of my arrival – I assure you that it was not intentional. Sometimes these things just happen…”

“Did you… you know?” Evey asked suggestively.

“No!” V answered a little too quickly. “I would never… no, Evey, no.”

He shuffled around desperately. _Where were his clothes?!_

“I haven’t seen you in so long, V.” Her voice was dreamy and sad, like she was speaking to a ghost. It caught his attention, and he stopped and stared at her.

“I’ve missed you so much, you know.” Evey’s voice cracked slightly. “You have no idea how I mourned you after the 5th – not even Charlie knows…”

“I’m sorry, Evey. Please forgive me – I never wanted to hurt you.” V whispered.

“I understand now why you turned away from me and committed to your vendetta instead. I didn’t understand then – it wounded me deeply – but I see that things had to change and that you were the only one who could change them. But, why didn’t you come back to me once it was over and you had survived it? Why did you let me grieve for you _for years_ , V?”

V’s heart bloomed with rage, and love, and regret all at once. He wanted to comfort her and say all of the things that might set right 10 years of misunderstanding, but he did not know how. At times like these, he truly felt that he was merely half a man.

“Did you love me, Evey” his tone was angry “Did you? I told you that I loved you on that subway platform but you did not say it back. You left me – and I don’t blame you for that – then returned on the most important night of my life, and gave me an hour with you. Just one hour! I adored you, Evey, I still do, but was one hour enough to convince you of that? Was that brief respite from a lifetime of violence and retribution enough to hang all of my hopes upon? You had never even seen me, Evey, never touched my skin… how could I return to you with so little assurance?”

“You could have done it anyway, and damn the consequences.” She whispered, not rising to his accusations. “I’ve never known you to fear anything. And I _did_ love you – I do – it was plain to see. But you have never trusted me.”

“Charlie trusts you…”

“But YOU ARE CHARLIE!” She gesticulated in frustration and the bed sheet slipped revealing one pale breast.

“Yes, I am and no, I am not. It’s complicated, Eve – we are very similar but also uniquely different – just housed in the same body.” Finally he averted his eyes from her and waved his finger at the bed sheet. “Cover yourself, Evey.”

“No, I won’t. Why should I hide myself from my husband’s gaze? You are NOT two different men, you are two sides of ONE man, and I love you BOTH!”

“I am not your husband.” He said glumly.

“The hell you’re not! Would Charlie have known to come to me without you? Would our relationship have mirrored my life in the Gallery so eerily without you? Would I have found him so attractive, both physically and emotionally, without first knowing you?! The only real difference between you two is that Charlie opened himself up to risk and experience, whereas you – for all of your fearless violence and idealism – chose to hide behind your mask.”

The conversation had brought colour to Evey’s cheeks and fire to her eyes. V had never seen her look more beautiful, and moreover, she was right – he had hidden away from her. While all that he asserted about not knowing her real feelings was true, he also knew that he probably still would not have sought her out if he had known differently. Only Charlie was brave enough to risk the rejection. If he decided to view Charlie as just another facet of himself, did that mean that he really _was_ willing to risk in order to have her? And she said that she _loved him_! Not past tense – right here, right now! His body surged again beyond his control, as he felt electrified all over hearing the words fall from her lips. Could it be possible? Was he really standing before _his own wife_?

“There is no Charlie without V. I feel you every time that I’m with him – waiting there, just beneath the surface.” She calmed her voice again. “For many years, I could only see him, but now I see you both. It’s not a matter of wanting one over the other – I want you to see that you are one in the same and that _that man_ belongs to me.”

He stood still with one sock hanging limply from his hand. It was all too much to handle. He was here to do a job: destroy Andrea Susan, not hash out his unresolved relationship issues. But he felt as if a weighty burden had been lifted from him. He had never confronted Evey about anything after the 5th, in fact, with the exception of a few fleeting glimmers from behind Charlie’s eyes, he had not spent any time with her since his ‘death’. He too had missed her and mourned her loss, and though he had an outline of her through Charlie’s memories, he longed to be with her again. 

“I belong to you?” he whispered.

She nodded and smiled in a way that connoted wisdom born of experience that he had missed out on. He had never seen her smile that way before. She beckoned him with her arms.

“Come here.” She said softly.

“Why?” he asked as he made a few unconscious steps towards her.

“So we can take care of that…”

V looked to where Evey had directed her gaze and saw that his cockstand had returned with a vengeance and was now making a mockery of his dressing robe. He tried to cover his embarrassment by placing his hands and the one lone sock in front of himself. He made some strange guttural sounds as if he was clearing his throat and refused to look at Evey. But she would not be dissuaded and caught up a dangling tie of his robe and reeled him into her, stopping only as his knees met the edge of the mattress.

“Evey…” he said doubtfully.

“V, you are my husband. I’ve made love to you as surely as I’ve made love to Charlie.”

V looked into her eyes then and saw the sincerity of her words there. He reached forward and ran his fingers through her tangled curls, relishing the sensation that it was the first time that he had ever done so. He could imagine every way that he wanted to have her but had no practical memory of ever pleasing anyone. A knot of doubt formed in his stomach once more.

“But I have never made love to you, Evey.”

“Then I’ll be sure to be gentle…”

Evey slowly reached forward and removed the lone black sock from his hand and tossed it aside. His other hand rested on her shoulder, stroking the fine, pale smoothness of the skin that he had only dreamt of. The hand in her hair began to massage the back of her skull slowly. V closed his eyes and gave himself over to the pleasure of touch that had been denied to him for so long. It was silly to become rapturous over curls and shoulder blades he knew, but he could not imagine any sensation more delightful – not, at least, until Evey took matters into her own hands.

Evey smiled as V closed his eyes and seemed to lose himself for an instant. She desperately wanted to pounce upon him, so desirous was she to feel Charlie’s body against her but knowing that V remained within it. She had meant all that she said about loving them both – it was true, they were different, but she was certain that they were just a hair’s breadth apart from one another and therefore had no issue with seducing Charlie’s other side. Between the two of them, they knew her completely and everyone wishes to be loved completely. She quietly untied V’s robe and fully unleashed his erection. She ran the tip of her finger from its base to the seam of its head, which caused V to gasp and snap out of his daydream.

“Evey!”

“Steady there, my love – we’re only just beginning….”

With one hand, she clasped his shaft and began gently rubbing its smooth surface, so different from the rest of him. She enjoyed the texture of him and allowed her hand unrestricted dominion over him until she thought that he was ready to withstand more. V’s gasping continued as he stared in amazement at her – there is a lot that remains unsaid between knowledge and experience, and he was feeling the full effects of that deficit now. As Evey continued her soft, slow ministrations, her other hand slyly slid down between his legs and began to massage his testicles. He stiffened noticeably in her grasp and his hand on her shoulder began to clamp down on her like a vise. She tried to control her reaction, but a little meep of pain escaped her and he quickly removed his hand.

“I’m so-sorry, Evey, I di-… Oh God that’s… good. So good, Evey – d-don’t stop…”

“You’ll pay for that, sir!” she purred.

“W-what?”

Evey removed her hand, which caused a loud moan of agitation from V, and instead descended on him with her mouth. Softly at first she merely traced the length of him with her tongue, paying special attention to his sensitive node near the tip, but soon encased him completely allowing the warm, moistness of her lips, her mouth and her cheeks to arouse him further. V’s moaning became demanding and his hips bucked towards her against his will. Evey had to restrain him with her hand before his need to fit all of him in her mouth choked her. As it turned out, massaging the base of his shaft while languorously sucking him appeared to be a most pleasurable combination – his voice deepened and his shouts bordered on incoherency.

“Mmmm, ohchrist! OhJesus! Evey, my love, My Love…. Mmmmmm!”

Whatever effect her hands and mouth were having on him, V’s voice was having a similar effect on Evey. The power of his pleasure, transmitted through sound, was enough to make her weak in the knees. Wetness trickled between her thighs still safely covered by the bed linens, but the growing itch deep inside her said that she needed more than sounds, and soon. Evey applied more suction and her fingers became more aggressive on him until his knees buckled and she had to quickly steady him with both hands.

“Perhaps you ought to lie down.” She whispered breathlessly as she looked up and saw his eyes roll back into focus momentarily.

He nodded and then tore the sheets away from the bed. He lifted her body and placed her in the middle of the mattress before pinning himself over top of her. The movement was so quick and effortless that it was shocking. She opened her mouth to say something but was stopped by his voracious, roaming kiss that sucked the breath right out of her. His lips gave way to his tongue and eventually his teeth as he played with her mouth, nipping and sucking her so ardently that she thought that she might come from his kiss alone. With effort, she pushed him away and gasped for breath.

“Hold on… need a moment…” she wheezed.

“Would you rather breathe or…” V gasped and cocked what was once an eyebrow.

“My, how quickly we’ve come!” giggled Evey under him causing reverberations in his own body.

“Not quickly enough…” he growled and kissed her deeply again before she could answer.

V’s body pressed tightly against Evey. The sensation of their skin sliding over one another was intoxicating to him. It left tingles wherever they touched and he moaned inwardly that he had denied himself the mind-blowing pleasure of touching her skin with his own when they lived together in the Shadow Gallery. She was so soft, so warm, and, due to their increasing friction, in some spots, so slick that it was causing him to loose any semblance of a plan that he had for the encounter. By this time, his erection, now trapped between their abdomens, was throbbing with painful urgency – he could not imagine getting any harder without bursting through himself. V’s knee found its way between Evey’s thighs and separated them, and he gratefully sank between them as he eased himself towards her hot core. His cock had taken on a life of its own as soon as it felt Evey’s damp thighs and now demanded that its needs be met. V lowered his head away from Evey’s face and into her neck as he moaned with desire and uncertainty. He did not know what do to. Was she ready? If she was not, could he hold out until she was? His need to gratify her was overriding all other impulses, even his mammalian need to couple.

V’s hand went to Evey’s breast and circled it warily, but his heart was not in it. Evey, panting with need herself, saw the conflict on his face and once again took the lead. She shifted slightly beneath him and found him waiting. She stroked him forcefully a few times to resurrect his attention and then slid her own finger deep within herself, moaning as she did. V felt her hips sway as she moved within herself and he watched her face with fascination as it contorted with her own pleasure. At length, she removed her hand, traced a long line with it along his chest and then circled his lips with her adventurous digit. He opened his mouth and drew the finger in sucking it lovingly, tasting her saltiness and wondering how he could have considered himself an epicurean without this taste in his palette. She removed her finger and looked at him, seeing the differences and the similarities of the two personalities that lingered there. Every time that she was with him, whether it be Charlie or V, she felt that she would never feel more complete than she did in that moment, and then, every time, that feeling was shattered by an even stronger connection. Seeing the love and longing in his eyes just then made her feel that no one could ever love her more than this man did, and she wondered if a love that strong was really meant to last in this world.

“I need you now, V.” She whispered.

“Good!” He breathed with a moan that bordered on painful.

Evey took him again in her hand and adjusted her hips to receive him. V pushed into her slowly. Evey grabbed him by his buttocks and drew him into her sharply and forcefully. He groaned and shook all over at this new, latest sensation. His whole body throbbed like one spent muscle and he knew that it would not be long now. Evey reached up and caught his lips brutally in her teeth.

“The time for gentleness is done.” She husked. “Take me as you wish, my love.”

With this new permission, he moved with strong, sharp thrusts within her. The tension coursing through his body was unbearable as the coil of desire contracted to an almost impossible degree awaiting release. Again and again he rammed himself into her moving the whole bed as he did so, reveling in her yelps and screams beneath him. He no longer cared if he was hurting her – only that she came and drowned in the same pleasure that was sinking him. She raised her hips as he dove into her and he reached a depth that caused her to howl and clutch at him in a new way, so he increased his frenzy and watched her as she lost all control arching and bucking under him as she climaxed. When she came and a fresh wetness slicked them both, he abandoned himself completely as well, and stroked over and over and over while wringing himself dry inside her. It felt like dying and it also felt like the greatest sensation that he had ever experienced – if it were 10 times more powerful. He collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving to catch his breath and his mind devoid of any thoughts beyond resting. Evey wrapped her arms around his chest lazily and stroked the back of his head. She said nothing – she did not need to – she had told him everything that she could with her body. V had come home finally, and now there was a chance for both the men that she loved to find peace. If they were not destroyed by Susan first…

“I love you.” V whispered. “I can never let you go now that I’ve had you…”

“You won’t have to. I told you: I’m your wife. I’m not going anywhere.” Evey nuzzled into his neck and breathed him in – so much like Charlie, she thought.

“Well, if you’re my wife AND Charlie’s wife, I guess that makes you a bit of a bigamist.”

“Hmmm. Since you are both living in one body, I think, _technically_ , that I’m just married to a complicated bloke…”

They both chuckled sleepily. Evey smoothed the palm of her hand across his brow.

“Rest a little, V. We’ll have to go soon.” As she said it, a stone settled somewhere in her heart.


	15. Never Let me Down

The trilling of tires on rough blacktop hummed through every nook and cranny of Evey producing the most profound nausea. She could not help but feel that they were speeding their way towards a date with doom – and making great time at that. V, driving in near total silence since they had left Briar House, seemed almost eager to reach Vervain. His forced silence compelled Evey to be alone with her thoughts and doubts, as well as subjecting her to an uncomfortable emotional distance from him. Evey thought that she had broken through some mental blockage with V, but when he exited the house dressed almost completely in black and helped her into Eric’s car without a word, she felt that she had been mistaken. And she profoundly missed Charlie.

The car mercilessly ate up the road in front of it bringing them inextricably closer to.. what? Death? Separation? Imprisonment? Secrets best left untold? She did not know what to fear or in what priority to place her fears. All she did was sit patiently, and fret and toss the endless hideous endgames around her mind until her mental dizziness matched her physical one. Her breathing became shallow and short. Spots appeared and faded at the edges of her vision as she felt a cold sweat slick her face and back. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the seatback trying to steady herself, but the vertigo got worse without a visual horizon to anchor her. Suddenly, the seemingly small divets in the road surface felt as jarring as craters, with each indentation causing her stomach to launch ever higher into her throat until the thought of vomiting seemed like a precious release. V noticed nothing.

“Pull over.” She whispered.

“Pardon?”

“Pull over. Now.”

“There’s a filling station just up ahead, we…”

“NOW!” It was still a whisper, but it was a non-negotiable one.

Evey did not wait for the car to stop moving before she leapt to the grassy verge and began to walk blindly into the tall weeds. V yelled from behind her somewhere but she did not hear what he said or had any idea of where he was exactly. She stumbled and crashed to her knees, bracing her shivering body against the earth with locked arms and threw up violently. V’s boots crashed through the grass behind her and she weakly raised a hand to him that signaled that he should stay back.

“Evey!” he called out.

“It’s okay. I’ll be alright in a moment.” Her whisper was so low that she barely heard it.

The sickness had abated somewhat but her body continued to shake against her will and her stomach swung madly within her as if she were at sea in a storm. She felt the terrible rising again and steeled her body against it, but then gave in as her body heaved desperately trying to rid itself of whatever had seized her insides. She laid her forehead against the freezing earth and concentrated on merely breathing. Her breath rasped in and out of her roughly while her heartbeat pounded in her ears: she could neither think nor feel beyond this simple act of survival. A gloved hand landed on her shoulder as she came to her senses briefly and realized that she was not alone. The hand remained motionless for a moment and then hesitantly patted her in the pantomime of a soothing gesture.

She turned in the grass and raised her head to look at him. V’s face was expressionless and unreadable. Clearly there were emotions at work within him but they remained a mystery to her. He seemed incapable of comfort and was reluctant to offer anything that would appear as such. Even at their most distant times in the Shadow Gallery he had shown her more than this.

“Are you… okay?” He asked haltingly, perhaps sensing the obviousness of the answer.

Evey searched his silver eyes for some sign of familiarity – she had no doubt that it was V standing before her, but the V that had come to her that morning was no longer present. He had been switched off somehow, and only the terrorist of days gone by remained. Charlie was nowhere to be found behind those eyes either. This was not the V that enjoyed old movies and philosophical debates. This was the V that could manufacture explosives from household materials and delight in using them without reflection. Perhaps his emotions were still there, but they were deeply suppressed. Evey breathed out, and much to her embarrassment a whimper followed it. She was spent. She could not keep up with all of this anymore. She failed to see why something so simple as love should constantly be just out of her reach. She felt as if she had been holding her breath for a decade and praying for this one thing, but God had left her hanging. Had Sidney Sumner been there in that moment with a gun in her hand, Evey thought that she would have walked up to it and gladly embraced a bullet. 

No one can hold out indefinitely against torture, not even the self-imposed kind. She tried to raise herself up and walk back to the car. V just stared at her as she stumbled through the weeds. Evey’s foot caught in a snaggle of overgrown vines and she lurched forward only to be scooped up into his arms as he followed her. She was still shivering from the sickness and the grey November chill, but his embrace of leather and wool was warm and solid against her. He continued to walk while carrying her, without effort, but his grasp tightened as he drew nearer to the car. She laid her head against his chest out of sheer exhaustion. He placed her in the passenger seat and gave her a bottle of water that she received gratefully with shaking hands.

“Are you alright, Evey?” He asked again as she handed him the water bottle.

“Yes. It was a momentary weakness. It will pass, as all things do.” Her voice was a monotone.

He seemed doubtful put closed her door and set about getting back on the highway. Evey leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. She was trying to remember the sound that she heard as she pressed her head to his chest: his heartbeat hammering within him.

\--------------------------------------

Vervain MedCom loomed large in an industrial park on the outskirts of London. Far from being a huge conglomerate, it appeared to be more like a small town as they pulled through the outer security gates and into the general car park. It housed several buildings, ranging in size from medium to ridiculous, which were all connected by a series of clear, covered walkways so that workers could travel from one building to the next without fear of the changeable nature of London’s weather. The place was gleamingly white and square and orderly – even the leaves seemed to fall in ordered patterns on the perfectly tended lawns. Everything about the place echoed the theme of control – the watchword of any scientist.

Evey walked up the smooth marble steps and through the sliding plexishield doors into the main foyer without an ounce of feeling; V at her side. The main reception was a room of white tile and cream coloured marble housing a crescent-shaped desk and a single, diminutive security guard.

“Name.” The security guard did not look up from his bank of cctv screens.

“I’m Evey Hammond. I’m expected.”

The security guard looked up briefly and without expression at V.

“I’m her guest.” V said while smiling brilliantly.

The guard returned to his vigil, tapped a few keystrokes into his computer and then gestured loosely over his shoulder.

“Take the main elevators down the hall to your left. 5th floor. I’ll call ahead – Ms. Sumner will be there to collect you.”

With a flick of his fingers they were dismissed. Evidently they did not merit a personal escort to their fate. 

Feeling nothing had its advantages, as Evey discovered while floating down the endless marble hallway towards the bank of elevators. She took in the banal corporate art in detached appraisal. She admired the smoothness of the building’s surfaces and wondered idly how they managed to keep everything so clean. She even managed to feel relief from her persistent sweat and nausea in the cascade of cold stone and tile that surrounded her. Some part of her chuckled ironically that she had found a measure of peace in this place – that which had loomed ominously in her mind as the manifestation of all of her fears. She did not hear V’s footsteps, nor did she feel his grip on her arms, at first, pushing her quickly and forcefully into a darkened alcove along the hallway.

“Evey!” He whispered urgently.

“What?” She was a little taken aback by his sudden manhandling without apparent cause.

He stared at her in the shadows, his face inches from hers, and she saw thoughts and emotions flick across his features like smoke on film. He seemed confused and agitated, but mostly just desperate. His lips moved as if to form phrases and then stopped, unsure of how to proceed. His eyes searched hers and he grabbed her hands in one of his own and pressed them to his chest. Evey felt the heartbeat that she had heard before, only ten times faster – at that rate, he would drop dead before he ever met Andrea Susan. She opened her mouth to speak but was stopped by his as his lips strafed across hers leaving an imprint of heat in their wake. He kissed her so hard that she feared that she would suffocate, but he finally relented and pulled away leaving her gasping.

“Evey! Snap out of it – I need you _here_!” he whispered hoarsely.

“ I _am_ here, V.” She said more harshly than she had intended. “I may feel like the walking dead, but I’m here.”

“No, you’re not. You left part of yourself back on that roadway.” Pain started to shine through his gaze.

“Like you left part of yourself at Briar House this morning?” She retorted.

His hands flashed to her upper arms pinning them painfully to the back wall of the alcove. His body pressed against hers in order to hold her in place and focus her attention.

“I left nothing behind – I carry everything that I need with me, Evey.” He hissed. “I can’t afford the luxury of a sympathetic response today. I have to hold my fear and my angst and, yes, my love in check so that I can focus on the mission at hand. It keeps me sharp – where I need to be if I am to …push through this!” 

“Then why am I not permitted the same allowance?” She whispered coolly. “Why must I face this like an emotionally raw nerve!”

V froze, and then sighed as he lightened his grip on her and rubbed her arms instead.

“It has been a long time since I have had to face my mortality, Evey. In the past, nothing mattered but the task at hand – it was simple, almost easy, to disregard my biological imperative to stay alive. Nothing depended on me but the vendetta. If I were to blink out of existence, it would be of little consequence to anyone, even to me.”

He drew her close then, wrapping his arms across her back. She leaned her head against his shoulder and breathed in the scents of wet wool, worn leather and the faintest hint of sandalwood.

“But now there is you. Now all of my actions have consequences for you, and I am deeply rattled by this. I have to end this constant state of anxiety for you – you deserve more from life than a pervasive expectation of dread. I have tried to be the best man that I could be for you, Evey – both Charlie and I tried – but, perhaps, I have been denying my own destiny for too long: I must confront my maker. I am only sorry that I have dragged you into this, and that it has caused you such pain, my love.”

“Don’t do this, V – don’t you say your ‘good-byes’ to me now…” Evey was shivering again. Her numbness had passed.

“I need you to be here now, Evey, so that I can _see_ that my life was worth something to someone.” He continued on ignoring her statement. “To see me the way that you do will give me all the strength that I need, and fear shall not touch me. Love is more powerful than indifference.”

“I can’t do this…” Evey mumbled into his coat.

“You can draw water from a stone, darling. I’ve seen you do it.” He drew her head away from him and looked into her eyes as he smiled. “You survived the death of your family, detention, fascist rule, kidnapping, torture, and numerous assassination attempts. You have come through it all and have steered your country towards responsible government – you draft policies read by presidents and prime ministers that will affect people for years! All of this power resides in you that you do not admit to having! You are a _force_!”

“But, without you…” She was crying now.

“You _will_ carry on without me – you will do it because I ask it of you. It is my only wish, do you understand?” 

V held her face in his hands until she begrudgingly nodded in agreement. She would honor his final request, but she had no idea how she would manage it. He gently kissed her tears from her face, which only produced more tears from her. Finally, he pulled away from her: he had one more thing to tell her.

“No matter what happens here today, you will never be alone, Evey. I will always protect you – I have made provisions for this. Should I die, you must look up a solicitor in London by the name of Kenneth Bogelman. Tell him who you are, and tell him that you have come about Charles Tenley’s affairs. Remember that name: Ken Bogelman. He will take care of everything – he’s a crooked snake of a human being but an excellent lawyer and deeply dedicated to my business. He will serve you as he served me.”

“K-Kenneth Bogelm-man.” Evey stammered.

“That’s right.”

“Okay, I will do as you ask: I will _be here_ for you, I will carry on, and I will seek out the solicitor.” She wiped away her drying tears and tried to calm her voice. “Anything else?”

“Yes. I love you.”

She launched herself into his arms and felt her bones crack in the crush of his embrace. They stood locked together, swaying slightly, for a minute in silence. Then, without a word, they separated and walked together out into the hallway and headed towards the elevators.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes:
> 
> “I’m taking a ride with my best friend, I hope he never lets me down again.” - Never Let Me Down Again, - Depeche Mode
> 
> “...can draw water from a stone” – Lemon, - U2


	16. What Lurks Behind The Curtain

The elevator doors slid open soundlessly on the 5th floor of Vervain MedCom and revealed Sidney Sumner leaning casually on the wall across the hall. She glanced up from her watch with a look of relief – or, at least, a very good interpretation of relief – and walked towards V and Evey with her hand extended.

“There you are! I was beginning to get worried. This place can be such a labyrinth – like we’re all rats in some giant experiment of my mother’s. Dawson at the front desk should have shown you the way personally, but he hasn’t much of a work ethic really…”

Sidney continued on as if she were welcoming visitors into her home and not compelling rats back into the maze. She shook Evey’s hand first and smiled warmly at her and then turned towards V.

“Sir, it is a _pleasure_ to finally meet you. I have been told so much about you that I hardly knew what to expect. What shall I call you?”

“The ‘pleasure’ is mine.” V said coolly as he took her hand in his gloved one. “I have gone by many names over the years but you may call me Charlie.”

“Sidney Sumner.” She responded, her smile growing wider.

Evey bristled at the use of Charlie’s name, and the excessive politeness of their welcome. Her nerves were taunt and her emotions were raging just a hair’s breadth below the surface of her. In any other situation, Sidney might have been an interesting acquaintance, but given their predicament Evey wondered why she was going to the trouble of sugarcoating the moment. Sidney stepped back and took them both in for a moment. She was dressed more formally than she had been at the archive but looked no less comfortable. The simple elegance of her trim black dress pants and crisp white shirt, open generously at the neck, signaled a woman who recognized the uniform of authority but was secure enough in her power to twist it to her own ends. Her mass of auburn hair was tied back and emphasized her sharp features and long lines. She was startling yet casual: a mixture that seemed hypnotic.

“Your eyes…” Sidney gestured towards V. “They refract light, do they not? You must see well in the dark…”

“Yes, far better than the average person.”

“But daylight doesn’t bother you?”

“My daylight vision is 20/20, like yours.”

“Amazing…” She muttered, and then returned to herself. “Well, enough of these pleasantries. I’m sure that you’re both eager to get to the meat of this matter. Though we were not expecting you for another day, Mother has some availability today so I shall take you to her directly. Follow me.”

“How kind of Dr. Susan to squeeze us into her schedule.” Evey said dryly.

Sidney ignored the remark and led them through still more endless, identical corridors pointing out various things of interest about Vervain’s work as they went. Finally, during a lull in the conversation, V spoke up.

“May I ask you a personal question, Miss Sumner?”

“It’s Sidney, please, and yes, by all means.”

“Well, Sidney, I’m curious – why didn’t you take your mother’s last name?”

“She didn’t want me to.” Sidney said without feeling.

“Curious.” Said V. “Is Sumner your father’s last name then?”

Sidney shot him a look of heat.

“You know very well that my father’s last name was Sutler…”

“Yes, but I doubt if _you_ knew that until recently.” V walked closer to Sidney, as if they were conversing at a garden party. “You have the look of him about you – sharp lines. But I’d imagine that your beauty and your mind come from your mother’s side.”

 _Christ!_ , thought Evey. _Is he FLIRTING with her?!_ Evey re-evaluated V’s emotional detachment: it certainly gave him balls.

“You knew my father?” Sidney whispered.

“Yes, I killed him.” V said matter-of-factly. “Did you choose the name Sumner, then?”

Sidney showed the first sign of being caught off guard. Her eyes narrowed as she flashed a showy smile.

“You are Codename V.”

“That is one of my names, but back to my question: did you choose the name Sumner?”

“No, my mother did.”

“So she did not want you to be a Susan, for whatever personal reason, but she wanted you to be her emissary – her messenger…interesting. You know that Chaucer’s depiction of the Summoner in _The Canterbury Tales_ is quite unflattering. One gets the impression that it is an unpleasant job.”

“I am not my mother’s servant.” Sidney said rather petulantly – he had hit a nerve. “You overthrew Norsefire? _You?_ You’re supposed to be dead…”

“I would have happily remained so if _your_ people hadn’t found me.”

“We DIDN’T find you – we found Charles Tenley through his medical prescriptions – your migraine medication: it’s prescribed for _specific_ pain conditions, and these pain conditions are exceedingly rare.”

Understanding and regret flushed through Evey at this statement: because Charlie had decided to live in the real world, for her, he had been put at risk. It had nothing whatsoever to do with terrorism, politics or revenge. It had been a lousy bottle of pills that had given him away. The three of them walked in silence for a moment, each mulling over newly revealed information. Sidney was the first to act.

“What was my father like?”

V seemed taken aback by the question at first. Then he linked her arm through his as they walked.

“You would ask a murderer for a character reference of his victim?” He said in honeyed tones.

“It couldn’t be any worse that what my mother has said about him…”

Evey understood this impulse, and therefore understood a sliver of Sidney. She had grown up fatherless, and possibly ignored by her mother, and a part of her was still a little girl pining to understand her origins – pining for love that she never received. V could say anything now and Sidney would spoon it up like ice cream: he had a measure of influence over her.

“He was a fearful, inflexible man who was intelligent enough to understand the mentality of the mob, but too narrow minded to put it to any real use save the consolidation of his own power, upon which it was predicated.” V paused. “He might have been a more successful tyrant if he had been able to make more creative intellectual leaps. But, in the end, he was merely obsessed with control.”

“Thank you.” Said Sidney as she stared into the distance, still holding his arm. “That was far more generous, and informative, than my mother has ever been about him.”

They arrived at a massive oak door that seemed more than just a little out of place amongst the profusion of marble. Sidney disengaged from V’s arm and then opened the door, being sure to knock first. She gestured them into Dr. Susan’s shadowed office with its endless shelves of research lining the walls. As the door to the office closed, the room became tomblike as the plush carpet and furnishings, so different from the cool, hard surfaces outside, absorbed all outer noises. Dr. Susan sat at her desk under her lamp making notes, but rose as they entered and removed her glasses. Even in the dim light, she appeared very much like her daughter: tall, trim, with a thick mass of brown hair and piercing eyes that shifted quickly and shrewdly from face to face. In her youth her looks would have overshadowed any of her other assets, but now, it was a sharp and unexpected weapon that she probably relished using from time to time. Evey wondered what this woman ever saw in Adam Sutler that would have convinced her to submit to his ‘charms’.

“Mother? This is Charles Tenley and his wife Evey Hammond.” Said Sidney graciously. “Charlie? Evey? This is Dr. Andrea Susan.”

Susan did not say a word; instead she looked over both V and Evey with a critical, unrestrained eye. She approached V and stared at his face, then looked down over his body in a way that made Evey tense and grind her teeth.

“Please remove your gloves, _Mr. Tenley_.”

V did as she asked and she immediately grabbed them, feeling their scarred surface and turning them over in her hands.

“Epidermal mutation is not a known side effect of the treatment. These look like burns. Where did you get them?”

“I was burned.” V offered no more.

“How long ago? How badly?” Susan badgered.

“Some time ago, perhaps three decades now. I suffered 2nd to 3rd degree burns over 90% of my body.”

“90%? Impossible! Whose care were you under?”

“No one’s.”

“That is absolutely amazing.” Susan said slowly staring at V’s hands. “Thirty years ago you would have just been exposed to the treatment, and yet to survive something like this at _that stage_ \- well, we’ve never seen it before.”

“I assure you that I have never seen anything like it either.” V replied sarcastically, which elicited a small snort from Sidney.

Susan ignored the comment and its response, and next turned to Evey.

“Are you free of disease, that you know of? Do you have any mental disorders or a history of mental illness in your family?”

Evey was overwhelmingly shocked by Susan’s line of questioning and was getting more offended with every passing moment. This woman did not have the wherewithal to comprehend basic polite conversation – she doubted that Susan could muster up a serious threat against them even on her own ground. Clearly, Sidney was the enforcer of the two.

“I beg your pardon?” Evey hissed.

“Have you had sexual relations with this man?”

“Mother…” Sidney warned.

“Quiet, Sidney.” Susan turned back towards Evey. “Well, have you?”

“Yes. Often and enthusiastically.” Evey growled. This time it was V who snorted.

“You’re not impotent!” Susan spun around on V and clasped her hands in delight that bordered on comical. “Marvelous!”

“Err, yes, I’ve always thought so…” mumbled V.

“Well!” Susan leaned against the edge of her desk and looked on them both like a collector looks on two new acquisitions. “There is much work to be done. I have many, many questions for you, Mr. Tenley, and of course I will require biological samples from both of you…”

“Both of us?” V tensed and his hands slid from the armrests of his chair to the sides of his coat. Sidney saw it and pounced on him in a flash, pinning his arms to his sides.

“What have you got in your coat, Charlie?” she whispered.

V could have easily thrown her off and gotten down to business, but instead he allowed her to feel into his coat pockets and retrieve two of his knives. Evey gasped, not only at the revelation of his weapons, but also at his seeming willingness to give them up. _What was he doing?_

Sidney produced a small wand from pants pocket and swept V’s figure with it. The device beeped two more times, and two more knives were located. 

“What were these for?” Sidney said as she turned a knife over in her hands.

“To protect my wife. She has nothing to do with whatever has happened to me. I will submit to your tests and questions on the provision that she is left unharmed and free to leave at any time.”

“Charlie…” Evey warned, using the name that he had given them.

“Darling, trust me.” He turned and stared at her. She saw his mind moving but could not follow it, and instead decided to do what he had asked: _be there_.

“We just require some routine blood work of you, Ms. Hammond.” Said Susan. “We just want to be certain that whatever genetic mutations your husband possesses are not transferred to you via …biological fluids.”

“Is that acceptable to you?” Sidney asked V.

“She is free to leave at any time?”

“Yes, of course. She is not a prisoner.” Sidney wore the same smile that she had when she realized that V had killed her father. A shiver ran through Evey.

“Am _I_ a prisoner?” he asked.

“You are our guest, Mr. Tenley.” Replied Susan before her daughter could answer.

\-------------

Dr. Susan and Sidney escorted V and Evey to Susan’s main laboratory, which was not far from her office. The two spaces could not have been more different. The lab was blindingly white and sharp and cool. The work areas were lit from below through semi-translucent plexi surfaces that had the added bonus of being easily sterilized. The stainless steel sinks and tools gleamed with the medical assurance that not many things _lived_ in this lab for long – let alone had enough time to germinate or mutate. The lab was closed in on three sides with solid concrete walls indicating that this room was in a corner of the main building. The fourth wall was a clear, double plexi shield much like the front entry had been, and looking out on one of Vervain’s endless corridors.

“The blood tests shouldn’t take long.” Said Susan reassuringly.

She drew blood from both V and Evey, labeled the vials, sealed them and handed them to the gloved hands of Sidney. Next she took some skin scrapings from both of them, followed by plucking out a few of Evey’s hairs by the roots.

“Ow!”

“Toxins live longer in hair follicles. They live longest in your internal organs like the liver or the spleen, but those aren’t particularly accessible, are they?” Susan’s smile was creepy.

Finally, Susan handed Evey a specimen cup.

“With your indulgence?” She said tipping the cup from side to side. “I don’t require anything more from you than that. Sidney will show you to the facilities and you may wait for your results in one of our lounges – it should only be about half an hour.”

“What about Charlie? I’m not leaving him here.”

“What I require of him will take much longer – I have quite a few questions for him, as he no doubt has questions for me.” Susan looked at V who nodded once. “It will take time, I’m afraid.”

“Forgive me for being so blunt, but after the goon squads that you sent after us and the tenacity of your pursuit over the past two months, I’m not at all inclined to abandon _my husband_ to your tender ministrations, no matter how outwardly cordial this day’s dealings have been.” Evey’s voice did not rise beyond a whisper but V could see her vibrating with anger and fear. His heart went out to her momentarily before his mind clamped down and scurried to find a way to convince her to leave him.

“I want to know about my husband’s condition. Sidney showed me the results of some of your work – none of it lives for very long…”

Sidney moved behind Evey and looked at her mother. Susan sighed and walked over to one of the lab’s sinks, washing her ungloved hands laboriously. At last, she turned and leaned against the sink’s edge.

“The short notes on your husband are that he was part of an experimental program designed to create an agent that would fight off biological weapons. This was pre-Reclamation days, and we were at war or exchanging hostilities with about a dozen other countries, all of which possessed or could obtain serious biological weaponry: Anthrax, Hanta Virus, Ebola, and various manufactured agents just to name a few. We were making real progress when The Reclamation changed everything – our mandate was altered from finding protective antibodies to be made into vaccines, into finding a _new_ biological agent instead. I was taken off the project and my replacement did, in fact, create a new virus: St. Mary’s.”

“Dr. Diana Stanton” V added.

“She was no more a doctor than that faucet there. All of her findings were buildings laid on _my_ foundations!” Susan sneered, then remembered herself and returned to her story. “I was forced to leave my test subjects behind – of which Mr. Tenley was one – but having already started the extensive experimentation process for _my research_ , the original subjects responded poorly to Stanton’s new protocols and 95% of them died almost immediately – nearly 70 patients in all.”

Evey gasped and peeked at V who seemed to be taking in the recounting of his torture without feeling. Sidney remained behind Evey, her face ashen but otherwise unmoved. Dr. Susan continued on.

“Eventually, the Larkhill camp received the final remaining candidates – 7 individuals – who underwent both my treatment and Stanton’s, and survived. They were placed in a separate section and tested for genetic mutations, subjected to multiple infections in order to determine their maximum tolerances, and were the first subjects to receive the experimental ‘cure’ for St. Mary’s. Basically, their bodies were a stew of toxins and hostile foreign organisms, and they were not expected to survive.”

Sidney’s gaze flicked momentarily towards V. He had not moved or responded to anything that was said. She took him in once more, taking advantage of his averted gaze to roam over him freely. To have survived everything that her mother, and others, had put him through for so long was a feat worth documenting – but he was so much more than a lab rat. Sidney could see that – she could feel it - but her mother never would. Science would label his existence as anomalous, but she understood that it was extraordinary.

“The combination of treatments provided startling side effects including cancer, liver and kidney failure, partial paralysis, higher pain thresholds, migraines, blood clots, allergic sensitivity, blindness, skin lesions, and a whole host of mental disorders: paranoia, bi-polar disorder, psychopathy, and schizophrenia – just to name a few. Have you noticed any of these symptoms in your husband, Ms. Hammond?”

Evey made no comment, but looked towards V. His eyes were cast downwards and she could not read him. She had always wondered how he had survived his imprisonment but now she marveled at the fact that he had lived for as long as he had. Pity crept into her heart seeking its warmth but she shoved it away at once: he would hate it if she pitied him.

“Migraines, yes…” She murmured.

“Hmmm.” Susan rubbed her lips with a forefinger. “All of the original subjects died at Larkhill – or it was believed so – and, no matter how long one patient survived over another, there were some symptoms that were universal and denoted a predictable rate of physical deterioration: migraines were noted in all patients and led to the discovery of brain tumors and blood clots.”

“What does that mean?” Evey’s heart fluttered dangerously. 

“It means that from the onset of the symptom, all patients died within two years. How long have you been having the headaches, Mr. Tenley?”

“Almost a year.” V said quietly without looking at Evey.

“Well…” Susan paused and then directed her gaze at Evey. “Your husband’s remarkable survival since his treatment ceased makes him a unique and fascinating case study. His physiology may have _evolved_ somehow in order to deal with these organic assaults – he may not succumb as the others did. This is why I must test him in depth.”

Susan began collecting up some files and organizing them in a tray next to an array of information screens along one wall of the lab.

“The data gathered will also help resurrect my original work, which I have been unsuccessful in duplicating over the years, and will help save millions through the development of protective vaccines.” She suddenly spun around and walked towards Evey. “Your physical relations with him may have exposed you to untold agents, for which you may have developed antibodies, or may be mutating within you. This is why I am taking _your_ biological samples as well. Perhaps now you will have a better idea of both the risks that we have had to take in finding him and the remarkable person that he is.”

Evey knew what Dr. Susan meant, but had an altogether different definition of ‘remarkable’ when it came to her husband. She looked over at V again and saw that he was staring back at her, stone faced but vivified. His unspoken message to her was: remember what I have asked of you.

The room was silent for considerable time. Evey roused herself and stood as Sidney warily shifted behind her. She stepped closer to Susan, invading her personal safety zone: she wanted her complete attention.

“I want your _word_ \- on your Hippocratic Oath – that you will seek to help him above all other considerations – even your vaccination work.”

“I will.” Susan said solemnly.

“I will wait for the test results, and I shall wait for him. I will not leave this facility without him. Is that understood?”

“It will take a great deal of time…” Susan tried.

“I said: I’m not leaving here without him. Work around it.”

Evey and Susan stared coolly at each other.

“Fine. We have barracks here for the staff. You may remain as our guest during Mr. Tenley’s stay.”

Evey moved past Susan towards V, as the doctor eyed Sidney with a knowing look.

“Sidney, please see to Ms. Hammond’s accommodation.”

V stood and held Evey’s hands in his own. Even in this setting and after the horror story that had been recounted, he appeared larger than life. She could not believe that an unseen organism, which lurked within him for decades, would fell him – it seemed impossible. She looked up at him and felt assured that he had a plan, though she did not know what it entailed. She had done her best by ensuring that she would be nearby when and if he needed her assistance. 

“I’ll be here.” She whispered as he bent to kiss her cheek.

“That’s my girl.” He gave no hint of what would happen next.

Evey turned and headed out of the lab. Sidney followed, but at the door she turned and spoke to V.

“Take care, Charlie. We’ll be on level 2, should you have any message for your wife.”

“Thank you, Sidney. I shall bear that in mind.” V said while eyeing her with curiosity.

The women left and walked down the long corridor until they eventually turned the corner and disappeared from his view entirely. V sighed heavily and spoke to Susan without turning to look at her.

“Thank you for providing my wife with that piece of fiction.” He turned slowly on his heel, his hands clasped behind his back, shoulders straight. “Now, kindly tell me the truth about the nature of your experimentations. Why am I _really_ here?”


	17. Conflagration

Dr. Susan stared at V without emotion. V stared back at her through silver eyes that were bound and determined to discover the truth before he left this life. Having safely gotten Evey out of the lab and forcing Susan’s attention on him, he hoped to tie up a few loose ends if only for his own sense of peace. The outcome of this encounter was already predetermined in his mind, and as such, he no longer concerned himself with it. V worried for Evey, but felt certain that she could handle Sidney on her own – besides; Sidney was developing a soft spot for him. If he died at her mother’s hands, the guilt might be sufficient for her to _help_ Evey get out of here unscathed. Either way, it was out of his hands: he would be dead by the time that it happened.

“Tell me, doctor, why am I really here?” he reiterated.

“You really don’t know who you are, do you?” Susan said after a long pause.

V shook his head, no. Susan sighed and turned away towards a filing cabinet next to the bank of computer screens. She slowly fingered her way through row upon row of yellowed paper files. After pulling and then discarding several folders, she found the one she sought and began to leaf through its considerable contents. 

“I should really get an intern to transfer these archived files into our database…” she mumbled absentmindedly.

“Start with what you took me for in the first place.” V breathed impatiently. “You were not searching for vaccines against biological weapons – I know that much.”

Susan looked up quickly and stared over the rim of her glasses. She smiled coldly.

“You weren’t _taken_ : you _volunteered_.”

V stood completely still. Waiting.

“All of the original test groups were volunteers – from the armed services. You were a grunt, Mr. Tenley, looking to be special.” Susan sneered. “Now, let’s dispose of the ‘Mr. Tenley’ pretense, shall we? Your real name is… one second – ah, yes! Your real name is James Renfrew, ensign H.R.H. Royal Navy.”

V felt as unsteady as he ever had in his 30 years of conscious memory. He _volunteered_? He was in the Navy? He had served the machine that had sought to destroy both him and everything that he had come to care about? His mind reeled.

“Oh yes, I remember now.” Said Susan as she flicked through the file. “You were quite a promising candidate – thoroughly convinced of the righteousness of our work. You had been married and your wife was murdered in a shop hold-up. The assailant was East Indian: an illegal immigrant with a criminal past. You were at sea when it happened and the Navy buried her before you made it back to port.”

 _A wife?_ V thought. _This is not what I wanted. I have no memory of James._

“You were nothing special on paper: an undistinguished sailor who probably sought out the Navy in order to escape your blue-collar life. Not much schooling. No living relatives. No children: the marriage was less than a year old. The only thing that set you apart was your frightening I.Q. scores and a certain… moral flexibility that we required for our program. Smart, dispassionate, bitter and unattached – you were perfect.”

“Perfect for what?” V was irritated by her piecemeal presentation of his past life. “What were you doing in this ‘program’?”

“Our mandate was to create the perfect soldier: self-healing, stronger, smarter, more self-reliant. But _my_ goal was to create the perfect human specimen – physically, intellectually, spiritually and morally _superior_ to the average. I was going to jump-start the next genetic leap forward because nature wasn’t up to the task.”

“Oh, bloody hell – you are a eugenics freak…” murmured V.

Susan shook her head vehemently.

“No, eugenics is about selective breeding! That takes too long – lifetimes to weed out unwanted genetic information that pollutes the race! What I will accomplish is human _replacement_ : we don’t HAVE to wait for nature. Science _knows_ what to do; we’ve known since the late 20th century, but we’ve never had the guts to take the next logical step. You create a superior model, replicate the original into sufficiently randomized breeding sections, eradicate the unwanted, lesser model from the environment, and then let nature take its course. Adam was to take care of the social aspect of the plan and I prepared the new models for introduction into a sanitized England. _I_ had the tougher job, but Adam _still_ failed to pass muster.”

Susan appeared disconnected from her surroundings. Talk of her work and her lover had carried her back 30 years and a youthful fervor coloured her cheeks and brightened her eyes. V finally understood what he must have looked like to Evey during his drive towards his own vendetta: it was obsession, insanity, and intellectual chaos. He had been a party to genocide, fascist dictatorship, and megalomaniacal prejudice. He had been their marching soldier. He was responsible, in part, for every death at every camp, every survivor’s horror story, every rape, every mutilation, everything that happened to the Geralds and Seras and Eveys of the country. All he had done 10 years ago was stall what he had started to begin with. V felt nauseous.

“These grand plans rarely work out as intended.” V whispered.

“My thoughts exactly!” Susan’s eyes flashed on him in recognition. “Some unforeseen variables sabotaged my results – mostly Adam and his narrow political views. We had planned this since university! We were committed to it! Then, once he achieved a certain amount of power, he became _obsessed_ with maintaining it. Just maintaining it!”

Susan smashed her fist down on the lab table rattling a nearby tray of test tubes and causing the light under the plexi surface to flicker. 

“We were going to recreate humanity, and he was trying to shore up his population of mongrels and degenerates and mutants! He didn’t have faith in me – in my science. He created the camps and closed the borders just to manage people – to create fear. He wasn’t capable of executing my brilliance. His mind was just too small.” Susan spat out the phrase.

“But what about Sidney? She’s half Adam…”

Susan’s eyes refocused on V, but there was no love, no tenderness at the recollection of her daughter.

“Sidney is smart like me, but has her father’s weakness when it comes to commitment. She _feels_ for people too readily. She is my daughter, so nature dictates that there be a bond between us, but she is inferior. Some days, I wish that I had aborted her – it would have made my life easier.”

V clenched his fists into painful balls. Why hadn’t someone already killed this woman? Someone so bizarrely and dangerously skewed should not be allowed to exist, he thought. But how was _that thought_ any better or less dangerous than her own views? He did not care to delve into the moral quagmire of it, he just wanted her dead, and luckily he had a predisposition to amorality.

“But surely, you have continued your work since the Reclamation.” Said V cautiously. “Why do you need me? Surely you have had other successes.”

“All of my subsequent work has failed. The mortality rate of the subjects is 100% within 5 years of genetic recombination. And they’re all sterile. Their superior attributes strengthen over time: power, speed, mental agility, healing, but eventually the process becomes unstable and their abilities become liabilities. And without viable progeny, the whole project is useless.” Susan sighed and leaned against the lab table. “That’s why I need you. You and your wife.”

“Evey? Why?!”

“You’re not impotent – you stated it yourself: you’ve had sex with your wife. If your sperm is viable, we can produce offspring from _your_ genetic material. We don’t have a suitable female partner for you, but if your wife can carry to term – and that’s a considerable ‘if’, according to my calculations – then, I am willing to compromise the purity of the result in order to test and adjust THAT result.”

“YOU WON’T TOUCH HER!” V lunged at Susan and grabbed her by the throat, pushing her up against a storage cabinet.

“It’s already happening.” Susan gasped as she clawed at V’s hands. “I don’t give a damn about testing your wife’s blood – Sidney’s taking her to the reproductive science wing to prep her for forced ovulation. You didn’t think that we would let her go, did you?”

“STOP IT NOW! STOP IT OR I’LL SNAP YOU IN TWO!”

“No.” croaked Susan. “You’ll do that anyway as soon as I give the order. Keeping me alive is the only way that you’ll accomplish what you want. You should be happy: I’m not asking you to do what you wouldn’t do naturally anyway. You’ll procreate with your wife – she’ll be here, living with you side by side. Most test subjects can’t boast of such a consideration, Five…”

V lifted her off the ground allowing gravity to do the killing for him.

“I’m not Five. My name is Charlie.” He hissed.

“Wait! Wait!” Susan rasped desperately. “What I said about the migraines was true – you’re probably declining. I may still be able to stop it!”

She flailed in his grip. It was easy, and almost joyful, for him to see the life slipping out of her. He wished that it could be more painful.

“There… is… a-another…”

“What?” V whispered into her purpling face.

“There…were seven…. Larkhill… you-Five… one m-more a-a-alive… Seven… I’ll t-tell y-y-you…”

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Evey sat nervously in a lounge on the second floor of Vervain awaiting her test results. Her mind raced three floors up to the main lab and V. She wondered if she would feel better if she had been let in on his plan. She wondered whether it would make the waiting easier. Probably not.

Her nausea had returned with a vengeance. The lounge walls were pulsating in and out, like the room was breathing. Her body was slick with fever and she felt ominously that the world was tilting slightly to the left and she had only just noticed it. How much longer would it be? How would she know when to act? What to do? She needed to get out of there badly.

Suddenly, Sidney was standing over her. Had she passed out? Was she dreaming? Her thoughts were hard to assemble and she wondered if a needle could _deliver_ something while it was drawing blood…

“Are you okay, Evey?” Sidney seemed strangely concerned for her.

“Waiting can be stressful.” Evey said dully.

“Yes, well, your results are back. Shall we go to the lab and see them?”

Sidney helped Evey to her feet and guided her through the door and down the corridor to another lab. Evey was secretly glad that Sidney had not let her go, wondering if she would have had the strength to walk the path by herself. They reached the lab – another pristine white and stainless steel room –, which was alive with smocked and gloved technicians and doctors. One looked up at Sidney’s entry and rushed over to her with a confused look on her face. The tech handed Sidney a printout. Sidney’s face blanched.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked the nervous tech.

“I ran it three times to be certain. It might still be of use…”

“No it won’t – you know that she’ll blow her stack over this!” Sidney turned to Evey. “Did you know about this?”

“Know about what?” she asked cluelessly.

Sidney searched Evey’s eyes for something. After a moment she grabbed her by the arm and yanked her from the lab.

“Destroy all of the samples that we collected today. All of them! Make it look like a freezer malfunction…” Sidney yelled back to the bewildered tech that scurried back into the bowels of the lab.

“What’s going on? Where are we going?” Evey said.

“Come on. We’re going to get Charlie.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“There’s another Larkhill survivor? Impossible – nobody survived that fire.” 

“Y-you did…” gasped Susan.

V shook his head. It was starting to throb painfully. _No, not now_ , he pleaded, _I need to hold on a little longer_.

“I don’t care. Whoever he is, he’s better off being anonymous. You’ve taught me that.”

“I-if I d-die… work w-will carry o-on… won’t s-s-solve anyt-thing… S-Sidney will f-f-find you… k-kill Evey…”

“V!” A muffled yell made him turn.

Evey was running down the long corridor towards the lab with Sidney pursuing her. A contingent of security personnel was behind her. _No!_ , V thought, _Nononononono! I’m not ready!_ He turned back to Susan and squeezed.

“There won’t be any work to continue because there won’t be anything left to test.” He ripped open is coat to reveal a torso packed with high-powered explosives.

Susan gasped in horror as she realized the full extent of his plan. She tried to speak once more before V jerked her head to the side and separated her skull from her spinal column. She fell lifeless to the lab floor, eyes rolled into the top of her head. V turned and watched as Evey, Sidney and the guards continued to run towards him. The detonator slipped down his coat sleeve and into his hand. He looked at Evey and smiled: she was so beautiful, even with fear painted across her face. He wondered if he would remember her… afterward. He sent out a wordless wish to the universe to look after her and then closed his eyes. _For you, Evey._

“Mother!” Sidney yelled as she saw Dr. Susan slump to the floor.

Sidney raced ahead of Evey, but Evey was looking at V’s face. A beatific smile spread across it that she had never seen before. She slowed her run to a jog as she saw both V and Charlie flash across his face. What was happening to him? His eyes closed and his lips moved. What did he say?

_For you, Evey._

Evey’s eyes flicked to his right hand and the silver stick that it held.

“Oh, fuck.” She whispered.

The lab exploded in a ball of flame so powerful that it burst through the first set of plexi shield doors and cracked the second set into vicious shards of molten plastic. Evey, Sidney and the security guard detail that Sidney had assigned to see both Evey and Charlie to safety were knocked flat by the bomb’s force. In the confusion, smoke and deafening ear ringing that followed, Evey pulled herself up the wall and tried to lurch towards the remains of the lab. Emergency lights flickered and sirens screamed distantly. Evey looked down and saw that her clothes were singed and her hands were bloody from shrapnel. Blood leaked into her left eye from somewhere: she had no clue if it was her own or not. Evey continued to crawl towards the lab.

A hand grabbed her by the shoulder and wrenched her backward. She turned and saw Sidney’s terrified and bloody face. The security guards were retreating to the stairs rapidly. Evey tried to break free as Sidney mouthed something at her.

“What?” screamed Evey.

“Fire suppression system! We gotta go, NOW!” Sidney pointed as large steel doors descended into the hallway bisecting it into 12-foot sections starting at the lab doors.

“But V’s in there!”

“MOVE! NOW!” screamed Sidney as she dragged Evey back to the stairwell.

Once in the safety of the stairwell, Evey grabbed Sidney and forced her to stand still.

“We have to go back!” Evey coughed. “Open those doors!”

“No.”

“Open them! HE COULD STILL BE ALIVE! YOUR MOTHER’S IN THERE!”

“Even if they survived the explosion, they’re dead now.” Sidney was wracked by a coughing fit that silenced her momentarily. “The Halon System seals the area on fire hermetically and then vacuums all of the oxygen out by reversing the feed of the area’s air ducts. No oxygen, no fire. It’s meant to avoid the damage that sprinkler systems cause to electronics and medical samples. Once the oxygen level in the area is 0, the doors _remain sealed_ for 30 minutes, and then automatically re-open.”

Sidney coughed violently again.

“There’s no way to override the protocols.” Sidney looked devastated. “They’re dead, Evey.” 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Evey stood in the basement of Vervain MedCom just outside the company’s morgue room. Police officers rushed past her along with fire response teams and the occasional medic. Someone at some point had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, but she could not feel anything now except the solidness of the wall that she leaned against. Chief Inspector Dominic Stone exited the morgue and walked over to her slowly. He looked into her eyes with profound sadness and then wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m so sorry, Evey. We tried our hardest to get here as fast as we could. When my assistant received your text about you and Charlie coming here this morning and needing back up, she thought it was a crank and ignored it. Christ, I’m sorry!”

“S’okay.” Evey mumbled into his tweed jacket. “I want to see him, Dom.”

“Evey, there’s no need. I’ve already made a positive i.d.” Dominic rubbed her arms gently and tried to steer her towards the stairs.

“No! Please. I must see him – one last time.” Evey looked up at Dominic fighting back her tears but unable to control the quivering of her lower lip. “ _Please_ , I’m begging you…”

“Okay.” Dominic sighed and directed her into the Vervain morgue.

The morgue attendant usually worked alone. He could go for weeks without seeing another soul save his immediate supervisor. This morning’s commotion had unsettled him terribly. Not because of the explosion and resulting fire, but because of the constant parade of strangers through his morgue room. And now he had both the bodies of the company’s founder AND a vicious terrorist cooling their heels in his freezers – it was eerie.

He looked up as the Chief Inspector returned with a small, singed woman in tow.

“Forget something, Chief Inspector?” the attendant asked, now more than a little put out by the whole circus.

“No. I need to see the man’s body again.”

“Why? He’s still dead, I assure you.” The singed woman shot him a look that silenced him immediately.

The attendant sighed and slid open the drawer that held the body. The Inspector and the woman followed as the attendant pulled back the white sheet that revealed the burnt and scarred body.

“See?” he said righteously “Still dead. What I don’t get is why his skin is like that – my findings are that he died of suffocation from the fire suppression system, not burning. The fire wasn’t even burning that long. Plus, it seems that the way that he rigged his body bomb, it would have exploded away from him – its shape placing him in a zone of safety. I’m no forensic tech, but he _should_ have survived this, if he hadn’t been trapped that is…”

“He wasn’t burned. He had these from before.” Evey stroked the scarred skin of his face, his lips and his forehead. He looked as if he was sleeping except that his entire body was now an unnatural purple colour. Evey’s breath hitched in her as the attendant’s words sunk in.

“He would have survived the blast?”

“Err, yes, I think so. Survived long enough to be caught, tried and executed for terrorism, I suppose.”

Dominic made a growling noise at the attendant.

“C’mon, Evey, let’s go.”

“He was a terrorist.” Evey said calmly as she looked at the attendant without malice. “But he was also my husband.”

Both Dominic and the attendant gasped at her statement, but she ignored them. She bent slowly and kissed his cold, unmoving lips one last time.

“I’m here – I’m right here.” She whispered.

“Evey – I had no idea…” Dominic stumbled. “Eric didn’t tell me…”

Evey waved Dominic off and exited the morgue alone. She walked along the wall towards the exit out – towards freedom - but stopped halfway down, crashed to her knees and quietly threw up.


	18. Single

The first week was blissfully numbing: she did not feel a damn thing. Staying at Eric’s townhouse, she ate, slept, watched the telly, and not much else. She could not face going back to their flat. She could not face confronting the two empty teacups in the sink, his unfinished Times crossword on the kitchen table, or the hamper of mixed laundry. They had left in a hurry and his presence still remained alive there. She could not return to Briar House either, though she dearly wanted to, because various investigatory agencies wanted to speak to her about what happened at Vervain. Even in death, Susan was screwing with her life – she had many powerful friends who demanded answers, if not legal action, from the wife of the doctor’s assassin. Her nausea kept her constant company throughout. She lost weight. She slept 14 hours of each day. She was barely holding on.

At the beginning of the second week, she sought out the offices of Ken Bogelman. His office was in one of the few as-yet ungentrified areas of Soho, and he was _very_ proud of his workplace’s seediness and obscurity. The outside looked like a crack house, but the inside was like the den of a mad professor, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves rammed with legal curiosities, worn leather furniture and the odd brave spiderplant for colour. He appeared to be too distracted and bumbling to be the sharp legal mind that V had alluded to – he wore two pairs of glasses on his head, but still insisted on squinting at various reams of papers in front of him – Evey just had to trust V’s assessment of the man.

“Ah, yes – Ms. Hammond…” he said gesturing her to make herself comfortable amongst the general detritus. “Mind the cat.”

Evey looked into the chair that she was about to sit in and saw something like an old, unraveling sweater draped across it. When she went to touch it, it sprung to life, leapt to the nearest bookshelf knocking down several tomes as it did so. Evey was a little jittery and did not sit right away. Mr. Bogelman handed her a lukewarm Nescafe and invited her to sit again.

“Mr. Tenley _gave me_ that cat. Said it would teach me ‘people skills’.” Bogelman’s laugh was like a schoolgirl’s.

“Has it?” Evey wondered aloud.

“No, of course not. But I always found the gesture ironic coming from a man with such a distaste for humanity.”

Evey was shocked by this statement, so in contrast to the complex man that she knew, but decided to leave it and get down to business so that she could escape this place as quickly as possible.

“Ms. Hammond, I have received the official death certificate from Chief Inspector Stone, so I can now reveal to you that you are the sole recipient of Mr. Tenley’s considerable estate.”

“Estate? Charlie was a taxi driver…” Evey said.

“Well yes, and no. He drove a cab, but not because he needed the money. In 30 years he managed to acquire several dozen buildings and land deeds to various spots around London. He owns the land under New Scotland Yard, for example. He owns the air rights above the houses of Parliament that are currently under construction – the developers had to negotiate with him before they could proceed, and we drove a very hard bargain, if I do say so myself…” Bogelman chuckled “He even owns the building where you reside here in London.”

“You mean that I was paying _him_ rent?” Evey’s eyebrows shot up.

“Ha ha, yes. However, he insisted that your rent payments be filtered into a separate account which is under your name and has been accruing considerable interest over the years – he didn’t feel good about taking your money, apparently.” Bogelman shrugged at this consideration.

Evey shook her head in bewilderment but said nothing. Shock appears very much like acquiescence at times, so Bogelman continued without a second thought to her comfort.

“Yes, you are a millionairess several times over, Ms. Hammond. Why the interest on his investments alone could see you comfortably through this life.” Offered Bogelman, still impervious to her alarmed silence. “Do you have a solicitor in your employ, or a personal banker? The details of the assets transfer need to be seen to.”

Evey blanked out. All she could think of were V’s words to her: _you will never be alone, Evey. I will always protect you – I have made provisions for this_. How much more about him did she not know? If she had known then what she knew now, she would have told him that no amount of money would be compensation enough for the bleak thought of a long life spent alone. Something deep within her, in some craven, dark corner, howled with soul-spent anguish. She was not going to make it – she would not be able to keep her promise to him. She was going to let him down.

“Ms. Hammond?” interrupted Mr. Bogelman.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bogelman. Could I not just hire _you_ to continue to manage Mr. Tenley’s investments on my behalf? That is, if your client list allows for it…”

“Mr. Tenley was my only client.”

“Really? But all of this…” Evey waved around at the massive amounts of work piled and arranged throughout the office.

“Like I said, Ms. Hammond, Mr. Tenley’s estate is considerable. I will happily continue on as _your_ representative in these matters.”

“He said that you would serve me as you had served him…” Evey mumbled.

“Did he? I guess that he was right.” Bogelman was quiet for a moment, and then continued. “Are there any changes that you wish to make right away, Ms. Hammond? I shall send a complete breakdown of the estate to your flat via messenger and you can peruse it at your leisure…”

“I won’t be returning to my flat. I will be moving up north. Perhaps you could see to the flat’s rental, and the one below it, I suppose…” Her eyes threatened to well with tears at the thought of strangers living in her home - _their_ home. Bogelman noticed her pain for the first time.

“Of course, Ms. Hammond, consider it taken care of.” He whispered

“I’d also like access to my rental payment account. I’ll need money to live off of.” 

“I will see to it and provide you with more into that account.”

Bogelman rose and came around the desk. He laid a scarred hand on her shoulder and rubbed it sympathetically. She looked from his hand to his face – he seemed to be lost in remembering Charlie as well.

“You were more than his ward, weren’t you? He always said that he was responsible for you, but I never knew what that meant…”

“I wasn’t his ward. I was his wife.” Evey said sharply.

Bogelman dropped to his knees before her and clasped her hands in his.

“Wife? He never mentioned _that_! Please accept my most profound apologies for your loss, and for the casual tenure of this meeting, Mrs. Tenley – I had no idea!”

“It’s quite all right, Mr. Bogelman. No one knew, really. We didn’t feel the need to advertise it.” Evey was going to lose it at any moment.

“In that case, his final stipulation makes far more sense…” Bogelman leapt to his feet and swept an envelope off his desk towards her. “He said that I was to trust this only to ‘family’. Since I knew that he didn’t have any, I wondered what I was going to do with it…”

“What is it?” Evey asked feeling the heft of the envelope.

“It’s a list of contents, and directions to an underground bunker that he owns. His art collection and other oddments are stored there.”

 _My God! It’s the Gallery!_ thought Evey. She clutched the envelope to her chest and let out a single sob. Bogelman began to fuss over her and searched around frantically for a tissue. Men cannot bear it when women cry, no matter what else they can manage to see their women suffer through. Evey decided that her daily allotment of strength had dissipated and she rose to make her exit.

“Tell me, Mr. Bogelman, how did you get burned?” Evey decided to forego tact knowing that she could get away with it under the guise of grief.

“At Larkhill Camp.” He said matter-of-factly. “That’s where I met Mr. Tenley. I was sent there about 6 months before it was destroyed – of course, you _know_ about that, don’t you? I am a homosexual, you see. Not seen in a favorable light in those days.”

Bogelman straightened his rumpled shirt self-consciously and continued.

“Anyway, for reasons that still remain a mystery to me, he protected me while I was there: kept the guards off, minimized the torture for me. The night that the lab blew up, the roof of my cell caved in on top of me and I was pinned by a steel girder and I started to burn…”

Bogelman’s eyes grew distant as he recalled the feel of the flames licking his flesh and the horrible smell of himself cooking.

“Suddenly, he appeared out of nowhere, naked and on fire. He lifted that girder right off of me – don’t know how he could have, it must have weighed a ton. He told me to run and to never look back, and I didn’t.” He looked ashamed briefly and then returned to the disguise of the grey, wrinkled lawyer that he was.

“He found me 5 years later in an underground gay club here in Soho and asked me to look after his business interests. After what he had done for me, and after what I had seen him do, I could hardly say no to him.” 

Evey reached out and squeezed Bogelman’s arm in sympathy. Charlie’s penchant for collecting strays seemed to have started with V after all. She smiled sadly at the thought.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier about your husband hating humanity – he didn’t. That’s more like me. He was just very particular about whom he chose to give a damn about. I’ve spent years wondering why he chose to save me…”

“I’ve spent time thinking the same thought about myself, Mr. Bogelman. I guess that we’ll just have to learn to live with disappointment on that one. I’ll call you when I get settled.” Evey turned and left Bogelman’s office.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Evey tendered her resignation to Eric Finch at the same time that she offered to purchase Briar House from him. He agreed to the second request but steadfastly refused to accept the first. He tossed her written letter in his desk drawer and said that he would ‘take it under advisement’. He said it with a level of sarcasm that left no doubt as to his disregarding it completely. Bogelman worked out the details, and with his help, Evey bought a used Range Rover, some new clothes and supplies, and headed out of the city and up north by week’s end.

The London flats were let out – Bogelman was light on the details sensing the pain that they might cause Evey – Charlie’s taxi and town car were sold, and Bogelman provided Evey with a 200 page outline of Charlie’s holdings, which was nestled deep in the bottom of her overnight bag. Eric tried to convince her to stay at his townhouse for a few more weeks instead of sealing herself away up north, but Evey had had enough of prying eyes: she needed to grieve and she could not do it before an audience. The moment that she had been cleared of the Vervain incident, she packed her bags. Eric was also concerned with her health – the nausea had not abated and was now complemented by a persistent, low-grade fever. She continued to lose weight dramatically and swung wildly between creepy disconnection to uncontrollable emotional meltdown. He told her straight out that he was concerned that she would do herself harm if left alone to fend at Briar House. In the end, she relented to his worries and phoned Mr. Bowles to ask if he could convince Sera to come and stay with her until she settled in properly. If she had to deal with _someone_ , better it be a mute someone.

The drive up north was just as haunting as staying in London: both sites held such passionate memories. At one point she doubted the wisdom of seeking refuge in a place that she so strongly connected with _them_. But, she could not imagine herself anywhere else – all other places seemed like photographs, yellowed and cracked in an old album. She pulled over twice during the trip: once to throw up and once to sleep when her emotions overwhelmed her and she had to shut down. She was concerned with her declining health as well, but suspected that it had something to do with Charlie’s enhanced physiology, and there was no longer a qualified physician or facility to deal with it; a country doctor would be less than useless. Besides, if she was dying, so be it. It was what she secretly hoped for anyway. Anything to make the pain _just stop_.

She settled easily into Briar House with Sera’s careful ministrations. Sera had been heartbroken by the news of Charlie’s death, and Evey had watched in wonder as the woman cried _silently_. There had been another death in her absence; Gerald had finally succumbed leaving Mr. Bowles alone for the second time in his life. Between the three of them, there were no wild parties or epic story-telling sessions, just an oppressive sense of loss. Evey felt alone, but where she needed to be.

Sera became very suspicious of Evey’s condition, and in her silent way, persisted with her own theory on it that Evey dismissed out of hand. Two weeks before Christmas, Sera threw down her trump card on the matter. After a particularly awful night of nausea and fever, Evey was actually praying to die. She had not eaten anything solid that had remained in her for over two days, and Sera had moved her bed downstairs to the living room where she could be closer to the fireplace for warmth. Sera had been out late getting groceries from the village, and though it was only 4 o’clock when she returned, it was already dark outside with the promise of snow in the air. Sera moved around the kitchen with purpose, putting everything just so, and finally reached into the bottom of her grocery bag and tossed a small box at Evey. Evey looked down at it and back at Sera who responded by scowling and pointing upstairs forcefully.

“Sera!” She cried.

The mute continued to point upstairs and accentuated it by stamping her foot.

“Fine. FINE! I’ll do it and _then you’ll see, once and for all_. You’re wrong.” Evey stamped out of the kitchen as forcefully as one in her condition could muster. A smile of satisfaction spread across Sera’s face as she nodded and set about fixing dinner.

Ten minutes later, Evey descended and walked past Sera in a fog. Sera grabbed her by the arm to stop her, and Evey turned and smiled at her.

“It’s okay, Sera, I’m fine. Dinner almost ready?”

Sera nodded, though dinner was still 45 minutes off.

“Okay.” Evey said as if in a dream. “I’m just going to sit outside a while and watch the snow. Come get me when it’s ready.”

Slowly Evey struggled into boots, a thick parka, and mitts, but also gratefully accepted the thick horse blanket that Sera offered her as she moved to leave the greenhouse. Sera looked concerned but let her go anyway knowing that she had to come to grips with whatever she now knew.

Evey sat down on a wooden bench just outside of the kitchen window. The air was crisp and cold, and the clouds raced across the sky high and fast almost as ripe with menace as they were with snow. The climbing rose bush tapped randomly at the window above her but everything else around her was silent, as if in reverence of the moment. Shortly, the first flakes of snow began to fall and coat every surface in fluffy, white peace. Little swirls of wind picked up bundles of snow and made them dance until, bored with the amusement, nature swung them up into the atmosphere to be lost amongst the new snow that was falling. Her breath came out in icy bursts, like empty thought bubbles. She searched for meaning in her surroundings. She begged for understanding of what she now knew, but nothing came to her but the clouds, the snow and the faint tapping of winter roses on glass. Evey looked down into her gloved hand that cradled a little plastic stick. The stick was still blue at one end, though it was fading slightly as time passed. Evey smiled sadly.

“Congratulations, Charlie.” She breathed into the night air. “You’re a father.”


	19. Letters

Nine weeks in the past Evey had become pregnant. Fourteen weeks in the past she had promised herself to one person for the rest of her life. Three months in the past she had saved that person’s life – twice. Six months in the past she had been a policy drafter for one of the most powerful men in England, and she had secretly considered her life to be a waste. Five years in the past Evey had employed her downstairs neighbor as her personal assistant. Seven years in the past she had made a friend out of the new downstairs tenant, and felt relief that she had someone to talk to again. Ten years in the past she had placed the body of a notorious terrorist on a bier of explosives and sent him to his fate below the streets of London. Eleven years in the past she wondered if her life would amount to anything – if she would ever matter to anyone at all – as she got ready to go out after curfew.

Six weeks in the past Charlie had died and left her alone. Again.

Evey thought over this timeline again and again, and was shocked to find how much of her life had been swallowed up by danger and melodrama. Here she was: widowed, pregnant, wealthy and adrift in her life – a full third of it behind her with not so much as a moment’s security and only fleeting happiness. She was bitter at life, at God, at Fate, or at whoever was responsible for laying out the twisted path of her own existence. Not even impending motherhood could brighten her outlook. She was lost and alone and in pain. She hated Charlie and she hated herself. She hated the friends who tried to help her and she hated the strangers who had hurt her. The only one that she did not hate was the child inside her, but her body hated it and was doing its best to rid her of it.

Knowing that she was suffering from morning sickness did not lessen its effects in the slightest: she continued to fight to keep food in her long enough to do her, and the baby, some good. Despite her best efforts she was losing ground: at her current rate of enfeeblement she would not live long enough to deliver the baby. Even Sera’s delicious and nutritious offerings did not make much of a difference. After Evey despaired when yet another meal failed to stay down, Sera pantomimed her assurance that she would not give up on Evey and that she had seen worse cases through rougher pregnancies than this one. Evey was momentarily comforted but could not help but think that she was not _just_ fighting morning sickness anymore.

Then, the package from Spain arrived. Inside the box were a collection of mostly burned medical files, biological samples – sealed and labeled with the Vervain logo, and a letter from Sidney Sumner. Evey’s first instinct was that it was another elaborate trap of some kind designed to wipe out any trace of Charlie, now that the man himself had already been dispatched. But as she thought it through more logically, Evey realized that there was nothing to be gained by hunting her down, and since she had only just discovered that she was pregnant herself, revenge on Charlie’s unborn child seemed an unlikely motive for the delivery. She also noticed that the Spanish package had been forwarded from Mr. Bogelman’s office address, which relaxed her suspicions somewhat.

Evey trolled through the burnt detritus aimlessly until her fingers landed on a singed photograph yellowed with age and damaged by fire. It was a portrait of a young man in a Royal Navy uniform standing at attention and solemnly saluting the camera. Half of the man’s face had been burned away as had the lower half of the picture, but she could still make out the man’s rough cut features, strong lithe build and a certain cold fierceness behind his eyes. The man seemed angry and flushed with the power that comes from being young and confident in one’s own abilities. She flipped over the picture and made out the notation: Renfrew, J. ENS. She put the picture aside and went through more of the box’s contents finally making her way to Sidney’s letter. It seemed that only by reading her letter would the contents of the box make any sense. Evey took a deep breath and unfolded the page that was filled with Sidney’s spidery script.

_Dear Evey,_

_I hope that this package finds you in a timely fashion so that its contents may be of use to both you and your baby._

Evey nearly dropped the note right there: how did she know about her pregnancy? Was there no end to the invasive reach of Vervain MedCom and the Susan/Sumner clan? She continued reading.

_Firstly, let me put you at ease by saying that nothing that I have sent to you should be perceived as a threat in any way. I have no desire for a reckoning with regards to the death of my mother. After reading over what was left of Charlie’s medical files and seeing my mother’s plan revealed for the first time, I have no doubt whatsoever that she reaped what she sowed. Her disgust for humanity and its future, as well as her drastic plan for its reinvention, fill me with a level of horror that is difficult to express. Had she not been my mother and the only family that I had ever known, I might have killed her myself. In short, you have nothing to fear from me, and I consider it a personal tragedy that Charlie could not have been saved. I expressed this as clearly as I could to the various authorities investigating the incident, and I hope that they have given up on pursuing you in the matter. Furthermore, I send this package by way of your solicitor in London, as I am unsure of your whereabouts, and have no plans to return to England if at all possible._

_Included in this package is the sum total of ANY remaining medical information on Charlie and his treatment by my mother and others over the past 30 years. The explosion destroyed most of it, but whatever survived is now in your possession. Do with it as you wish. There are no copies and no computerized records of this information. You can choose to make him a ghost if you wish._

She looked down at the charred photograph. Was that Charlie? Was that him before the scars and the burns and the torture? She did not recognize the cold features on the unblemished face, his eyes shaded by dark hair and military regalia. If only he was a ghost, she thought. If only I had the small comfort of being haunted by him occasionally – even like this: a cold, unmarred stranger. Evey crumpled the edge of the letter and kept reading if only to keep the tears at bay.

_Also included are the biological samples that we took from both of you during your visit. These are extremely important, Evey. Your blood test results revealed to us that you were pregnant, but they also revealed that similar cellular mutations that were present throughout Charlie’s system were also present in YOUR blood – our technicians were unsure how this could have occurred as it could not have been transferred through seminal fluid or saliva, only blood to blood contact._

A cold chill settled over Evey and she let the letter drop to her lap. It was not just morning sickness – she was changing: her body was mutating. How could it have happened? Blood to blood contact, she thought. She could not recall a time when they had both been injured. What other situation would blood be spilled than… The memories came back in vivid, passionate flashes: she had bitten him, he had bitten her, they had drawn blood. Evey’s hand went to her forehead and covered her eyes as if trying to erase the images both for the pain that they caused and the realization that they afforded. She had known some of his medical background but never once considered it unsafe to be intimate with him, and he had never warned her either. She had a sudden, overpowering stab of fear for her baby.

_This evidence have two immediate consequences for you: one is that your body will try, unsuccessfully, to fight off this new cellular mutation as if it were an invading host, similar to a virus. You will experience extreme flu-like symptoms such as fever, nausea, lack of appetite and the like. The problem is that your body cannot cleanse itself of these mutations, but you did not have a significant enough exposure to ensure ENOUGH mutation so that your immune system would adjust to the physiological changes. You will remain sick and your system will continue to fight it until you have no strength left leaving you open to a host of opportunistic infections. You need an infusion of Charlie’s blood to obliterate your immune system and cause it to re-adjust. I have only a small amount of his blood to offer – it will not be enough – but perhaps, if you can find a good doctor, they might be able to reproduce the effect synthetically using Charlie’s blood as a template._

_The second consequence is that IF you can survive the mutation that is underway, and find a way to get an appropriate infusion, you could have a successful childbirth. My mother’s records indicated that there has never been a successful birth of what she called a ‘hybrid’ from a normal, uninfected woman. The strain of gestating a ‘hybrid’ is too much for the average woman’s reproductive system as the child demands much more in the way of nutrients and energy than a normal baby would. Also, the child’s mixed cellular make-up would attack any attempts by your immune system to protect him or her from further infection. Basically, the two of you are at war with each other in your own body. I wish that the news were better._

_You need to synthesize an infusion as quickly as you can, Evey – for BOTH your sakes._

Great! That’s just great, thought Evey frantically. She was widowed, pregnant, emotionally unraveling, and had discovered that she was infected with an incurable agent that is killing her, and her baby’s immune system will do the same unless she made herself _sicker_. Evey crumpled the unfinished letter into a tight ball and threw it away, then she picked up the box and tossed it as far across the room as her weakened condition would allow. A cry of anguish ripped from her as the box made an impressive smashing sound on the floor, which brought Sera rushing into her room. I look of fear and confusion flashed across her face as she moved to Evey’s bedside and drew her in. Evey sobbed uncontrollably like one whose dreams have been shredded before her eyes. Sera rocked her gently and stroked her sweat-streaked hair taking in Evey’s grieving rant in her usual silence.

“GODDAMN HIM! Goddamn him for the plague rat that he was! He said that he would take care of me – he said that I would never be alone, but I’VE BEEN ALONE, one way or another, since I met him! All I ever wanted was him, Sera – how could he repay me like this? Now he’s gone and I’m dying, but not before _we_ kill the only thing that we have left of each other…”

Evey’s sobbing was so strong that it induced a frantic, breathless coughing fit that resulted in her spitting up blood. Sera went wipe the blood away and Evey swatted at her wildly.

“DON’T TOUCH ME! Don’t touch the blood! It’s tainted. I’m turning into him…”

Sera did not approach her but sat still on the bed and looked at her with sad eyes. Slowly she shook her head and produced the envelope that Evey had received from Bogelman from her pocket and offered it to Evey. Evey had not had the strength to read the letter. She had no idea what it contained, but figured that once she read it she would never have anything more from him, and as a result, refused to open it. Evey again weakly refused to accept the letter, though she saw that it had been opened and assumed that Sera had read it. Sera pushed the letter forcefully into Evey’s feverish hands and closed them around it. In her silent way she stared at Evey as if to communicate that it was time. Evey dropped her head back onto the pillows of her bed and closed her eyes tightly, hot tears running down her fevered cheeks.

“I can’t, Sera. He wanted me to be strong, but I just can’t do this alone. It’s all too much.” Evey murmured to herself as she rocked her head from side to side. “It’s all too much. I’m so tired. So very tired… Please, just let me go.”

“Read it.” The voice was small but sharp.

Evey’s eyes flicked open and looked at her companion who just stared straight back at her. Evey was about to ask a question when Sera rose from the bedside, collected the thrown box and its contents and then quietly left Evey alone in the room. Evey was too shocked to think. She did nothing but breathe for several minutes. It was a day of revelation, apparently. Then she looked to the battered envelope lying in her lap. Slowly and with quivering hands she removed the letter and began to read the bold, slanted script.

_Is this a dream?_

_Tonight you told me that you were mine forever and I felt the world still for a moment in reverence of that promise. Only hours ago I mistreated you in rage and jealousy, and I cannot imagine how this perfect instant has come to pass. Am I dreaming? If I am then I do not wish to wake. If I am not, then I cannot rest for fear of missing a single moment with you. I watch you sleep in our bed, disheveled and unguarded, and pray that I can live up to being the man that you think I am._

_I have loved you, in truth, from the moment when you asked me if I was crazy in that alley 11 years ago. The love grew and deepened even as I knew that such a love was impossible for me. You have no idea how a part of me broke on the evening of the 5th when you kissed my mask and gave me a way out of my fate: a way out with you. You have no idea how much I wanted to say yes. But as I turned away, I accepted that I could not give you what you wanted and left it for another; someone better. Finding myself alive somehow later, I fought to stay away from you – to give you a chance to flower on your own. But, selfishly, I could not bear us to be separated and believed that maybe I could be satisfied from a distance. Evey, you move me like a chess master directs his soldiers across the board: I am happy to serve, grateful to be of use. A pawn never expects the sympathy of his master._

_But then, you took me into your heart again. You made me an equal there, though I have deserved no such consideration and can offer you nothing in return but my dreams. How I have dreamed of this! I spread my love like cloth at your feet, my angel. Tread softly for you tread on my dreams…_

_Someday, after a long life together, you may read this sentimental absurdity and laugh at an old man’s soft heart and tender mentality, but know that you were everything that I could have hoped for but did not dare ask to possess. There’s a touch of destiny about you, Evey, and for once, I am happy to give myself over to the hands of fate. I will do my best to never let you down._

_I must return to the dream – dawn is approaching._

_When I am gone, know that I am still dreaming of you._

Evey’s breath caught in her throat as she leaned back into the pillows and let the invisible fist wrapped around her squeeze until she felt that she would burst. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to it – in the past few weeks she had learned that fighting the sensation only made it worse. With eyes shut her senses played with her: her nose smelling his intimate scent, her ears hearing the faint swish of his trousers as he walked past her. For a moment, she even felt the heat of his body close to her; as if he was bending down to embrace her, to brush away her hair and kiss her tears. An aching cry escaped her without her permission, and the sound of it shocked her so that she opened her eyes in confusion. Her vision settled on the singed photo of Ensign J. Renfrew. She brought it close and rested it on a pillow beside her, then curled into a tight ball and fell asleep with the taste of blood in her mouth and the smell of burnt paper in the air.

\----------------------------

The creature was blinded by snow. Everywhere he looked was white and grey and stinging and sharp. He had walked for miles and had lost his bearings; for all he knew, he could have been walking in circles. It was foolish to continue but something inside – a kind of enraged madness – drove him onwards.

He could not feel his hands or feet any longer, which was a blessing because it meant that they no longer hurt and he could push them further. It was too soon for his new form to be exposed to this degree, he knew, but the waiting was almost worse than death. Almost. Only one element would cure him and it had been most elusive. This was the last place on his list – all of the others had been fruitless, and now he was desperate for it in a way that he had never experienced before. But then again, there were many things that he was painfully experiencing for the first time these days.

The car had drifted and become stuck in a firm pack of snow and black ice. There was no hope of getting it out on his own and his legendary strength was not at its peak anymore. He could have stayed in the car and waited out the storm – waited for someone to drive by and give him a hand – but he could not delay. He had to keep moving. Only movement would bring him closer to his salvation: it was all that mattered anymore. He picked a spot on the darkened grey horizon, only slightly less white than the ground beneath him, and loped into the frozen waste like something feral: bent on survival or death. 

The blizzard raged around him and he continued, making slow progress has he stumbled and fell through soft drifts and tried to cover his face from the stinging north wind. He had dressed for this eventuality but found that in practice Mother Nature was infinitely wilier than polar fleece or Thinsulate. His lungs burned with exertion and frostbite, as did his thighs and feet. His body overwhelmingly told him that he had made a mistake – it was too soon. All of this effort was just amounting to him killing himself. But something in him would not let him stop.

He tripped and tumbled forward, but instead of falling into a drift he disappeared into 7 feet of snow. He was suddenly surrounded by muffled sound and cold, soothing blueness as he felt the snow from above cave in under his passing weight and creep down under his collar and cuffs and gloves. A frigid wet chill rang through him like a peal from a church bell and then pass leaving a blissful absence of feeling and sound behind. His body ached from hours of walking, and, unused to this new form, sagged under the burden of his spirit’s demands. He tried to climb back up and out but the snow caved under his touch, and without a horizon to orient him, tunneling was out of the question. 

He realized that he no longer felt much of anything save a deep desire to sleep. The muffled storm sounds above and the blue shelter from the snow lured his body into sagging relief as he pondered his next move. Just rest for a second, his limbs said. He felt at peace for the first time in months and wondered why he could not focus on anything but the feeling of stillness. His eyes drooped and closed, finding pleasure in the simple act of not seeing. His spine slumped, his legs buckled and his chin fell forward until it bounced off his chest and he bolted upright in a shower of newly disturbed snow. Hypothermia, he thought. His body was not even shivering anymore. His core temperature was lowering, his nerve endings were disengaging, his blood flow was slowing – if he did not get out of the storm, he would die and very, very soon. He would never see her again.

His body may have been new but his spirit was old and it marshaled its remaining energy into digging. He dug and scraped and clawed until his fingers found purchase and he dragged himself to the surface, and laid out face up into the elements. His chest heaved and his lungs rasped from the pressure while his fingers twitched from the abuse and chill. A low moan rumbled from deep within his belly and slowly snaked through him until it exited him on hoarse breath. Powered by the sound he struggled to his knees, face bent to the wind as he squinted, and tried to determine up from down. Nothing. Everything was snow and wind: he could not make out a thing. Panic suddenly flared up and he threw back his head and roared in pain, expending what little energy he had left. He curled his frozen hands into his armpits and rocked on his knees.

“Evey…” he whispered.

From the corner of his eye something flickered for an instant. His vision snapped to it, searching desperately. He sat still for a long time and was eventually rewarded as the flicker ignited again. Light. Something was moving in front of a light, but the light source was still. He rose to his feet and lurched at right angles in the direction of the flicker. Light could mean a building or warmth or help. Even if it was only a hallucination, he would die out in the wilderness on the path towards hope – perhaps even salvation.

\-----------------------------

Evey lay wrapped in blankets before the fire in the living room. The storm had raged for 8 hours and showed no signs of abating, not that she had noticed as she faded in and out of consciousness. Her symptoms had gotten worse since she had received Sidney’s package the week before and she had been running a high fever for more than 2 days. In her moments of lucidity, she felt relief that the end was nearer than she had expected but hated the pained look on Sera’s face as the girl watched her slowly waste away. Mr. Bowles had been by and brought Gerald’s IV and hospice equipment, but without a blood transfusion to accompany it, they were mostly useless. Her thoughts were prayers of forgiveness to Charlie and their unborn child: forgiveness for letting them both down, for not having the strength to withstand what was beating her. She shivered as her body was racked by another wave of cold fire and she rolled into the length of the couch ignoring the indigo shadow that floated haltingly across the garden window.

A frigid draft swept through the room followed by a soft slam and the strange absence of sound after something that distracts. Evey strained but heard nothing.

“Sera?” she husked, too tired to muster anything more.

The fire crackled and hissed softly while Evey listened. Shadows danced to the rhythm of the flames projected on the room walls, magnifying everything horrifically. No one appeared and she relaxed and moaned quietly back into the folds of the couch. Her eyes drooped with the strain of fever dreams.

She blinked and was gone from consciousness for some time. One side of her body burned with nearness to the fire while the other, bathed in sweat, froze and twitched with discomfort. Christ, she thought, just let it be over already. She opened her eyes and in the dim light she saw something move in the shadows by the kitchen door.

“Sera?” she asked again.

The shadow moved and she struggled to lift herself up by her elbows.

“Sera?”

The shadow shivered and rippled until it hit the dancing firelight. The silhouette was etched in flickering movements and she saw the vague hint of silver where its eyes should have been. Before she knew that she could do it, she threw off the blanket and wobbled into the darkness after it.

“Charlie?”

As she weaved into the dimness, she made out his shoulders, his chin, the ruins that were his ears and the scars that defined everything else. His eyes pierced right through her and yet drew her nearer. Finally, her ghost had come for her. In her last hours he would haunt her. She was a length away from him when she stopped and smiled.

“You’re early, my love.” She said.

His head twitched to the side in confusion but said nothing.

“You must be impatient, I know. I’m sorry, but it won’t be much longer now.” Evey closed the space between them and raised her hand as if to touch his cheek but just let her hand hover in front of him.

“I long to hold you again, Charlie. But I have broken my word to you – I couldn’t help it, I tried as best I could. Please forgive me: all I wanted was to live up to your expectations of me. I’ve let you down…” Her voice was all anguish.

“Evey, I…” His voice broke her revelry.

She twitched as if stabbed by something. She slowly, gently let her hand drop towards his face until it ever so lightly brushed the skin of his forehead. She reared backwards and cried out as if electrocuted and he stumbled back from the shock of the heat that he felt in her touch: she was on fire. Evey crumpled to the floor and her eyes rolled back into her head. The shadow leapt forward and gathered her into his arms almost instantly. His numb fingers and arms felt the searing tingle of her feverish skin.

“Evey! Evey, what’s happening?” He tried to shake her into consciousness.

“J-Just let m-m-me go. I w-wanna be with C-Charlie…” Her head lolled against his shoulder.

“Jesus, no! No, no, no – don’t you leave me, woman. Don’t you DARE leave me now!”

He picked her up and swung towards the door that led to the upstairs hallway just as a bewildered Sera stepped into the room. Her anguished, drawn face melted into shock at the sight of her charge draped in the arms of a dead man. Charlie stormed towards her and put on his best authoritative face in hopes of disguising his runaway terror.

“Sera, what the hell has happened to Evey?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote:
> 
> “Tread softly for you tread on my dreams…” from Charlie’s letter was paraphrased from Yeats:
> 
> Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,  
> Enwrought with golden and silver light,  
> The blue and the dim and the dark cloths  
> Of night and light and the half light,  
> I would spread the cloths under your feet:  
> But I, being poor, have only my dreams;  
> I have spread my dreams under your feet;  
> Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. 
> 
> W.B. Yeats (1865–1939)  
> "He Wishes For the Cloths of Heaven” from The Collected Works of W.B. Yeats.


	20. Reconnection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s cold comfort to the ones without it,  
>  To know how they struggled, how they suffered about it.  
>  If their lives were exotic and strange  
>  They would likely have gladly exchanged them  
>  For something a little more plain,  
>  Maybe something a little more sane.  
>  We each pay a fabulous price  
>  For our vision of paradise. - "Mission", RUSH.

Charlie watched gloomily as blood flowed from his arm, through the IV tubing into Evey. It had been a remarkably stressful 12 hours, and though things were now quiet and still in Briar House, his anxiety flowed as inexorably as his blood: Evey had not awoken since her collapse. 

After a brief fit of disbelief, Sera had come to her senses and had shown Charlie to the upstairs bathroom where she had been preparing an ice bath for Evey prior to his arrival. Using their secret language, she had managed to communicate to him that Evey had been sick, on and off, for nearly 2 months. She also explained that the 105F fever that Evey was suffering from had been going on for several days without relief. Because of the storm, the local doctor had not been able to reach them, but had advised Mr. Bowles via telephone that they use any methods available to them – even medieval ones – to reduce her fever as quickly as possible. Sera was at her wit’s end and thought that the risk of hypothermia was not as terrible as watching Evey slowly burn away her energy and mind to a fever of unknown origin.

Charlie was unwilling, at first, to strip Evey down and freeze her, considering his recent experience outdoors. But rational thought quickly reminded him that the body could only withstand so much hardship and that there was a very real possibility of heart attack and seizure if they did not reduce the fever immediately. People _died_ of fevers, he reminded himself. So, with reluctance, he removed Evey’s sweat-stained clothes, and with Sera standing by, lowered her into the ice bath.

Evey did not awaken, so much as she switched on: her body arched painfully as she made contact with the ice water and she used all of her strength to attempt to crawl out of the tub. When Charlie held her down, her automatic responses kicked in and she fought him with a ferocity that he had never seen from her before. Her limbs flailed madly and, when she made contact with him, she clawed and punched for dear life. She made no words but howled and screamed like the possessed, her eyes glassy and distant as she looked through him towards phantom salvation. Sera grabbed her legs as Charlie held her torso down, and together they forced her submersion for over an hour, as Evey slowly went numb and limp in their hands. 

Charlie’s hands had gone numb long before he carried her from the tub to the bedroom wrapped in a towel. She shook every few seconds from chills and her lips and eyelids had turned a bluish purple, but her eyes remained closed and she stayed limp in the crook of his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Evey.” He whispered into her wet hair not realizing that he was dampening it anew with his tears.

Once safely tucked into bed, Sera returned with a thermometer and sighed as she took a reading of 99F. Her expression quickly changed from relief to purpose as she leaned across the bed towards Charlie and offered him a portion of Sidney Sumner’s letter. Silently, she pointed to the section describing Evey’s infection and her need for a transfusion. Charlie looked up from the letter into Sera’s darkened face.

“But… how?” He said with anguish.

Sera did not waste time discussing the whys and wherefores; she quickly lit from the room and reappeared with Gerald’s borrowed IV equipment. Charlie was in shock at the ease and speed with which Sera handled the apparatus. When she made a move to tap his arm for a vein, he automatically dodged her and curled his fists. Sera stood back from him: she recognized the response of a cornered animal and knew that he could do much damage to her if she did not tread lightly. In the end, she stood before him, held out the needle and tubing and cocked an eyebrow at him: shall I do this, or will you? 

“It will kill her.” He growled.

Sera’s eyes softened and she gestured an open palm to Evey’s shivering form: she’ll die anyway – will you not try?

“I can’t…” He looked at Evey. “There will be no reason for me to _be here_ if she is gone…”

Charlie turned back to face Sera in the darkened room. She could not make out much of his face, but caught the look of terror that clouded his silver eyes, and she breathed in sharply: she had never seen him so unsure of himself. Slowly, she edged forward, took him gently by his arms and directed him to sit down by the bedside. He looked at her like a lost child, his muscles and will softened and molded to her direction. She extended his left arm and wrapped the fingers of his hand around Evey’s. With his attention diverted to her, Sera quickly tapped a vein, inserted the IV needle, connected the tubing and readied Evey for the transfusion. Then, she left them alone: a demon crying for his fallen angel.

That had been 11 hours and 2 transfusions ago. Daylight broke, though it was nearly impossible to tell through the snowstorm, and Charlie remained at Evey’s bedside waiting for a twitch or a moan. Sera came in and out a various intervals to stop the transfusions and to check Evey’s vitals. It became clear, even to Charlie’s distracted mind, that Sera had been a nurse once. Charlie wondered where she had practiced and why she was hiding out in the northern countryside. He also sent out a wordless oath of fidelity to this mysterious mute who had cared for his wife as though she had known Evey her whole life. 

Eventually, Charlie descended to the main floor in search of food and to stretch his cramped muscles. Sera fed him but asked him no questions about his return or where he had been for 2 months. She also did not tell him about the baby. Instead, she built up the living room fire and sat with him on the couch staring at the flames in silence. After he drifted off into fitful sleep, she wrapped him in a blanket and returned to her charge upstairs.

\------------------------------------------

Evey awoke to music. Her room was filled with light and the soft, lilting music made her think that perhaps she was dreaming. She looked out of the bedroom window from the bed and saw that every inch of her known world had been outlined in snow and glazed with ice. Every twig, every stone glinted proudly in the restorative mid-winter sunlight, like something out of an ancient fairytale. Her eyes sharpened as she heard the faint call of a cuckoo and caught the slightest fluttering of wings across the rill and into the shadowed vale beyond. She shook her head and thought that she must be dreaming, as she could not see such detail from this distance even on the clearest day. Then the music brought her back to reality as the player missed a note, paused and then replayed the phrase hitting the correct note this time.

Evey followed the invisible trail of music out of her room, down the stairs and through the hallway into the living room. It was soft and delicate with a subtle edge of sadness, like an Irish ballad about loss. She could not identify the tune and stopped dead when she identified the player sitting at the modest upright piano: Charlie. He remained unaware of her for a few seconds as his head bent in concentration over the keys. Suddenly, his head snapped up and his eyes locked on her from across the room pinning her with a heat that she had not felt in months. She stood still and shivered, realizing that she had come downstairs barefoot. They remained staring a one another for a full minute without words; she did not want to burst the magic bubble of this dream with speech.

“Is this a dream?” She whispered finally.

“No.” Charlie stood but did not walk towards her. He appeared to be shaking.

“I heard music… I feel so… strange.” She took a few hesitating steps towards the piano. “I’m really not dreaming?”

“No, you’re not dreaming. Tell me how you feel.” He cocked his head to one side and took a few steps towards her.

“I dreamt of fire and ice. I dreamt of explosions and ghosts that were electrified. Someone… tried to kill me… and then I thought that I was dead.” She moved closer and stopped just in front of him, feeling a little unsteady. “Then I heard music and saw that the world had turned crystalline and calm, but I can hear the blood rushing in my ears.”

“Evey,” His voice cracked as he whispered her name.

She looked up into his silver gaze and then reached out to brush her fingers against his chest. Her eyes widened and she gasped as the realization settled in.

“Oh my God! _You’re real!_ ”

Charlie bent down and scooped her up off her feet, one arm wrapped around her waist and one arm cradling her head into him. Her feet dangled as her arms reached around him in disbelief. He buried his face into the crook of her neck feeling her curls vibrate as he shuddered with nervous release.

“My love, I thought that you would never awaken! Christ in heaven, - I thought that I’d lost you for good…” His voice was thick and low, as if he had been crying, and his body shook uncontrollably.

“Charlie? Are you alright?” She was still unsure what was going on, but his tone and demeanor made her uneasy.

“Yes, yes. I’m perfect, my cherub.” He pulled his head back to face her. “Everything’s fine now.”

He smiled and leaned in to kiss her only to stop short of her mouth and plant a kiss on her forehead instead. He seemed reserved and overjoyed in a way that was confusing to her: she still was not convinced that she was not dreaming all of this. He twirled her around in his arms and laughed a little while she got dizzy.

“Oh! Better put me down, love, I feel a bit woozy…” She croaked.

“Of course – you haven’t eaten in days…” He gently placed her on solid ground again, a look of concern returning to him. “Come, let me fix you something to eat.”

Mention of food made her stomach growl and, an instant later, lurch into her esophagus. Oh dear, she thought, I am not dreaming – morning sickness. She struggled to settle herself as he directed her into the cozy kitchen, but her abdominal surges would not obey her and she dashed out of his arms and launched herself at the kitchen sink as she dry heaved repeatedly. 

“Evey! What’s wrong?!” She heard the tension return to his voice behind her.

He laid his hands on her twitching back and she waved him away absently. Since she had not eaten for days, she had nothing to throw up which seemed to anger her body even more as it searched in vain to expel the offending parasite. 

“I’m okay.” She husked unconvincingly as she waved him off again.

“You’re most certainly NOT ‘okay’, Evey! I don’t understand: the transfusions should have helped…” His fingers dug into her back and he groped at her forehead with one hand. “You no longer have a fever – I don’t understand this!”

She leaned heavily into his hand as she groaned and lurched again. Suddenly, as quickly as it had come, the nausea passed and she relaxed in a hard-won moment of tranquility.

“Perhaps you need another transfusion…” He was becoming frantic.

“I’m fine now.” She tried again, her voice raw from weeks of crying and vomiting.

“Come with me. We’ll find Sera…” He ignored her and began to push her towards the hallway leading upstairs.

“Charlie, unhand me! I’m fine – I said that I’m fine…”

“Don’t argue, woman! Just come with me – I won’t let you die!” He was yelling now, but she was past caring and more than a little irritable herself.

“I’M NOT DYING, YOU GIT – I’M PREGNANT!”

Charlie stopped pushing, stopped moving – just _stopped_. His arms went limp at his sides as his silver eyes widened impossibly and his mouth gaped open. Evey stood still herself: this was not how she would have chosen to tell him about the baby. But then again, she had never given the situation much thought, as Charlie was supposed to be dead. A sudden wave of doubt rolled across her: what if he did not want the baby? She tried to read his response but had never seen him at a loss for words before – she had no idea if it was a good or bad sign. He kept opening his mouth to say something and then closing it, as if changing his mind.

“Please say something.” She begged.

“It’s true?” His voice was no more than a whisper that she nonetheless heard perfectly. 

She nodded.

“When?”

“I’m almost 3 months along now.”

He went blank for a moment and then his eyes showed recognition and he nodded slightly.

“The cave…”

“Yes, I think so…” She ducked her head slightly at the remembrance. Why was she suddenly so shy around him?

She looked back up at him briefly and saw that he was averting his eyes as well. So, she was not alone in this new shyness. He fiddled with a loose thread from his Shetland sweater and looked at her again. This time the shyness was gone and there was nothing but the intimate intensity that she always felt when she looked at him. What was going on with him? More than anything, she wanted to just fall into him, but his changeability was causing her to hesitate.

“Is it all right?” She searched tentatively.

“It’s more than ‘all right’…” He cupped her cheek in one hand and crouched on his knees before her. “It’s wonderful – wonderful news – and totally unexpected. I feel… truly humbled, Evey.”

Charlie leaned his head into Evey’s chest and pulled her close. He sighed contentedly as she stroked the back of his scarred head where it met his neck when he suddenly looked up at her.

“Are you happy?” He seemed very concerned about her answer.

“You have no idea.” She smiled at him, and for the first time since she found out about the baby, she truly _was_ happy.

\------------------------------------------------

A week passed as Evey concentrated on regaining her lost strength, eating and resting. There did not appear to be a good time to bring up the important questions that hung, unasked, between them. She filled him in on facts that did not obviously lead to more probing, uncomfortable subjects: Gerald’s death, her visit with Mr. Bogelman and the subsequent purchase of Briar House from Eric, and Sidney Sumner’s package. But her need for an explanation of his Lazarus-like reappearance, the lost 2 months, and his odd behavior towards her was building. 

While her morning sickness continued, it fell into an almost predictable routine that only afflicted her for an hour or two after she awoke each morning. She underwent 2 more transfusions, and after each one felt more energized, but also more aware that there were things about her that were already beginning to change. This was another topic that was left unmentioned between her and Charlie but was quickly approaching a point where it could no longer be ignored. Charlie’s behavior was tender and attentive, but also modest and reserved: since he had returned, he had not so much as kissed her, and he seemed to walk about her on eggshells. It was driving Evey mad. Things were coming to a head within her: they needed to talk.

The opportunity came on a rare, mild January day a week and a half after his return. Charlie had expressed a desire to visit Gerald’s grave, and Evey pounced at the opportunity to not only get some exercise, but also have some serious time alone with him.

“He’s buried near the beacon. It’s not so far from our cave…”

“You’ve been there?” He seemed mildly shocked.

“Yes, several times. Before I became too sick, I liked to climb up there and just… sit.” She faded away for a moment, and then returned to him. “I’ll take you.”

“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea, Evey. Not in your condition…”

“Nonsense. I’m much stronger now and I’m going mad with cabin fever. It’s a beautiful day for a walk – I want to go.”

“But, the baby…”

“Charlie,” She sighed in exasperation. “I’m pregnant, not made of porcelain. I’ve been shot at, chased, punched, and nearly died – I can handle a little neighborhood walk!”

Before he could stop her, she was dressing in her parka and Wellingtons in the greenhouse. Charlie sighed, cursed the enduring allure of headstrong women, and bent down to put on his own boots.

\-----------------------------------------

Much as they had months before, Evey and Charlie climbed the mountain in near silence. Each appeared lost in their own thoughts, and Evey felt tension building between them as they climbed higher and higher. They passed the cave that they had taken shelter in without a backwards glance, and instead made for a small copse of birch trees that stubbornly clung to the mountainside in angry defiance of Nature and the north wind. Within the copse was a tiny clearing, and here, Evey bent down and dug in the snow to reveal the modest grave marker of Gerald Bowles. 

“It was quite difficult to bury him here. Mr. Bowles said that the ground was already frozen, but that this had been Gerald’s favorite spot, so he persevered and dug the grave anyway. It took him 3 days.” Evey stood back from the marker reverently and allowed Charlie his space as he bent to give his respects.

Evey found a comfortable V-joint in a nearby birch and sat, watching Charlie. His posture was bowed and penitent. She had read the bits and pieces of Ensign Renfrew’s medical file, and knew Charlie well enough to know that he would feel responsible for Gerald’s treatment, infection and subsequent death. No doubt part of the reason why he was treating her with such reserve had something to do with a similar sense of guilt, she mused. There was no better place to clear the air about this matter than here, on their mountain. She hoped, that in the presence of the dead, Charlie might be convinced to face his demons. She did not want to think about what would happen if he did not.

“Charlie,” She whispered; she knew that he could hear her though she was across the clearing. “Talk to me.”

“About what?” He said in monotone, without facing her.

“About what happened after Vervain. About where you’ve been for 2 months. About your guilt, and why you can’t touch me…”

He turned when she said that and fixed her with that stare that warmed her from miles away, then the look faded and he fell into himself. It suddenly dawned on her: she was talking to Charlie, but V was present as well. Oh god, she thought, what do I do now?

“V?”

His eyes flicked to hers in surprise, and a warm, nostalgic smile spread over him.

“It never ceases to amaze me that you can _see me_ …”

“But, I’ve been calling you Charlie for days… why haven’t you said something?” Her emotions rolled like waves on the sea: she loved them both. If only one had returned, she would have to say goodbye to the other.

“Because you didn’t need to be corrected.”

Evey shrugged her shoulders in an ‘okay, I give up’ gesture that begged his explanation. He sighed and decided that this was as good a time as any for this conversation.

“When I awoke after the explosion, I discovered that there were no gaps in my memories: no vagueness, no remembrances that were half formed as if told to me. Just a seamless 30 year timeline from Larkhill to now.”

“So, which one are you now?”

“I am as I have always been, Evey: one man. But now I am whole. I remember you through _both_ Charlie and V’s eyes.”

Evey’s brows knotted in confusion. Why must this relationship be so hard? Who was he now? Would she have to re-introduce herself to him _again_? Anger bubbled within her, and not for the first time, she rued the day that she had met him.

“That’s just great! You let me mourn you for 2 months, leaving me pregnant and dying alone. Then, you reappear without explanation, pump me full of contaminated blood to ‘save me’, and then tell me that you are no longer my husband OR his alternate personality, but a combination of the two, who, apparently, has an aversion to touching me!” She flung her arms around wildly as her anger broke free of its moorings. “Quite frankly, I can no longer keep up: what the hell do I call you now? What’s the next big melodrama that going to come between us? Huh?!”

She slid out of the tree and began to pace fiercely. Charlie suddenly appeared in front of her from across the clearing and gripped her arms tightly.

“I’m the same man – just… augmented. I still love you, Evey!” His fingers dug into her arms.

“You love me, but you won’t kiss me? And ‘augmented’? That’s an understatement! You’re not a man at all – I saw you DEAD on a morgue slab! You died. Men don’t come back from being DEAD!” She reached for the fingers of his right hand and peeled them away from her with so much force that he winced. She had never had the physical ability to hurt him before.

“I can’t explain it!” He let her go suddenly as she wriggled to get free. “I don’t think that my heart ever stopped beating – it just slowed to such a degree that I seemed medically dead. Tibetan monks have known how to control their heartbeat for centuries. Through practiced meditation, one could slow one’s heart to beat maybe once or twice per minute. This person would appear dead, even to a doctor. All that I know is that I woke up locked inside a morgue bay. It took 12 hours before someone came by to start an autopsy on me – luckily, the hack at the Vervain morgue was prevented from performing one.”

He began to shiver despite the warmth of the sun. He had chosen not to think about his own resurrection too carefully in favor of recovering and returning to Evey. Now, it appeared very likely that he would lose her, and so he rushed to make a full confession before she gave up on him entirely and left.

“I gave the city coroner the shock of a lifetime when I sat up on his autopsy table and demanded to know where you were…” He smiled at the thought that there was one man who would never cut into another body again. “After I made my escape, I returned to the Shadow Gallery. I was alive but severely injured: my lungs were damaged from oxygen depravation, several of my ribs had broken from the concussive blast of the bomb, broken ribs pierced several organs including one lung, which then deflated.”

“No one can survive that on their own – untreated!” Evey protested.

“I KNOW THAT!” He was shaking with the realization of what he had become. “I just lay down in my bed and waited to die. I waited for _you_ to come for me – why didn’t you come?”

“What do you mean? Why would I look for you in the first place? You were dead!”

“Didn’t Bogelman give you my letter?”

“Yes, but I didn’t have the strength to read it for a long time. Besides, it was just a love note and a list of the Gallery’s contents….” Evey hesitated, realizing that she had never read the whole thing.

“There were instructions on how to get past the Gallery’s security systems AND instructions that, should I ever ‘die’ or disappear, to _meet me there!_ ” Charlie spoke through gritted teeth. “When you did not appear, I feared that you were dead – I nearly lost my mind over it, Evey – but I couldn’t resurface to find you until my injuries had healed. It took almost 6 weeks to recover. Even now, my lungs still give me trouble…”

“Are… are you saying that you re-grew organs?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that 2 months ago I nearly died, and now I’m fine. I’ve spent weeks trying to find you! Do you know that there are PEOPLE living in our apartment?! I never thought that you would come back here…” Charlie took a deep breath and stared Evey down. “Don’t _ever_ doubt that I love you, Evey – I came back from the dead to find you! I nearly froze to death in that storm trying to reach you!”

“Then, why won’t you touch me?” Evey’s anger had abated somewhat but she was not through with her questions yet.

“Because of THAT!” Charlie pointed angrily at Gerald’s grave. “LOOK AT WHAT I HAVE DONE! LOOK AT WHAT YOU ARE BECOMING BECAUSE OF ME!”

“ _You_ are not responsible for _THAT!_ ” Evey was no slouch at yelling and she was not going to let him intimidate her. “I became infected through _my own actions_ and without those transfusions, both the baby and I would be dead. Gerald’s blood is on the hands of the doctors who infected him, and HE would be the first one to point that out if he were here!”

“I wasn’t just a tool of a corrupt system, Evey, I was an active participant! I VOLUNTEERED to be a guinea pig that would result in the death of thousands and the possible extinction of entire ethnicities on this continent!”

“Renfrew volunteered, but haven’t you paid the price? Torture, disfigurement, isolation, not to mention your vendetta! When will the scales be even, Charlie? How much more must you sacrifice?”

Evey sagged against a tree trunk suddenly, as her energy drained out of her like water from a faucet.

“How much more must I sacrifice?” She murmured to herself.

“Evey…” Charlie reached out to grab her.

“I’m serious, Charlie – what new issue is going to interfere with our lives now? I’ve had a lot of time to think about it in your absence. I’m pregnant so I have to think beyond my own selfish desires.” She backed away from him and into the trunk of another tree.

“I’m still attractive – the bloom isn’t totally off my rose just yet – I could find some nice, average man who wanted a family, and wasn’t picky about how he got it, and settle into a quiet life in Sussex or something… It’s still possible…”

Charlie grabbed her by the arms again and gripped her so hard that it felt as though her humerus would shatter.

“ _Evey, I love you!_ ” His voice was deep with menace but his eyes were wide with fear, like a boy.

“I know! Don’t you think that I know? But if every time that you look at me, or our child, you’ll feel guilt about what you’ve done, I’d rather spend the rest of my days out of your sight.” She began to gasp for air under the terrible weight of what she was saying; before long she was hyperventilating. “The tr-true test of any ch-choice is choosing to m-make the SAME DECISION, knowing f-full well the c-consequences of that choice, and…”

Evey looked up into Charlie’s face, hoping that what she said next would reach him.

“…k-knowing the full ramifications of being w-with you: the p-pain, the loss, the d-danger – I would c-choose to be w-with you again in a heartbeat, C-Charlie. W-without hesitation, w-without reservation.” She was openly sobbing now. “B-but if you c-can’t l-live with the c-consequences of _your_ d-decision, then l-let me go. G-give me and the b-baby a chance at a real l-life. Love me or leave me be.”

Charlie could not have been more shocked if she had pulled on gun on him. He released Evey from his death grip and she slid down the trunk of the tree into a heap at it’s base, sobbing. He stumbled backwards and stared through her disbelievingly. What she had just said was the proof of her commitment to him that he had always longed for, but it was also an ultimatum. She had withstood a lot to love him: she deserved some happiness. And now there was a child to consider. In a perfect world he could let her go and allow another to raise his child, to love his wife – for both of their sakes. But this was not a perfect world, and they both knew it. She needed him to be more than he was, and he, well, he just _needed_ her. He really did not have a choice in the matter.

He knelt in the snow beside her with his hands between his knees, his head bowed like a supplicant. 

“I cannot let you go, Evey.” He whispered. “I cannot live without you. I choose you over everything.”

She looked up at his face and saw the familiar heated stare looking back at her. She wiped away the tracks of her tears with the back of a mitten.

“You want me? Us?”

“You have no idea.” He breathed, echoing her own affirmation from a few days previous.

His hand cupped the back of her head and drew her in for a deep, revitalizing kiss that caused butterflies to bloom in her stomach. Her own hands reached up to brace both sides of his face as she wriggled in closer to the heat of his body, and moaned with relief. He released her lips and traced kisses down along her jaw line, across her neck and deep into the curve of her collarbone, pushing aside her scarf and parka collar in the process. A shiver ran through her and he suddenly realized where they were. His hand slipped under her parka and laid across her lower abdomen as he searched out her lips for another lingering kiss. 

“We should go. You are cold.” He whispered into her hair. It had grown so much during his absence. Had he really been gone that long?

“Yes, I am a bit cold, and tired.” She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, but then snapped her head up and fixed him with a questioning stare. “Ummm, what should I call you now?”

He laughed at the seriousness of her simple question, although it was an appropriate one. Her scooped her up into his arms without strain and began the long descent down to Briar House.

“I can walk…” Evey protested.

“Of course you can, but I want to carry you.” He said simply.

Evey sagged into the crook of his shoulder and breathed in his scent deeply as a new calmness settled over her. She felt warm and safe for the first time in months.

“You can call me Charlie.” He whispered into her hair. “I’ve always liked the way that you pronounce it.”


	21. Had We But World Enough and Time...

Things did not return to normal after their discussion on the mountain, but the tension between Charlie and Evey eased considerably. Evey found herself watching him obsessively as if making absolutely certain that he was not a phantasm that would evaporate into the ether the moment that she looked away. She felt elated and giddy in his presence, but always had the lingering dread that it was just a matter of time before the other shoe dropped. She had meant what she said on the mountain – she would choose to be with him again, despite everything – but it did not mean that this choice was free from worry. It was not just the blood-born infection that had sought to kill her, but his absence as well: she needed him so terribly that the prospect of being without him actually caused her body to shut down. What would happen if Dr. Susan’s two-year prediction was correct? What would happen to their _child_ if she were to suffer the same fate? Was this not the same sort of crippling fear that he had sought to free her from 10 years ago? 

She craved him in a way that she never had before but could not understand why her feelings had suddenly intensified, unless it was due to the fact that he had yet to touch her. He kissed her, he held her, and he cared for her as he always had, but had not gone beyond that. He had even offered to sleep in the guest room so that she could rest undisturbed, for the sake of the baby. Evey had flatly refused and practically demanded that he take his rightful place in their marriage bed, which he did, but not without ensuring that he remained a safe distance from her throughout the night. Once again, Evey became exasperated. What had happened to her husband?

In order to keep her mind from obsessing, Evey bowed to the deft pressure that Eric Finch had exerted over the past 2 months and began to attack the mountain of paperwork that he had shipped to her bi-weekly. Eric had never taken Evey’s resignation seriously and sought to remind her of her importance by cc-ing her on every interoffice memo, every email, and the minutes of every policy meeting. Eric was not about subtlety, he was about getting things accomplished, and Evey was his most intelligent, most diligent, most trustworthy worker bee. The political climate in London was changing quickly and he needed her insight and planning more than ever. Evey fell into a routine of spending most of her mornings shut up in the tiny office next to the mud room mainlining coffee and trying to straighten out the mess of the Ministry of the Interior from the opposite end of the country. She had made it clear to Eric that she would not return to London – Briar House was now her home – and he seemed willing to acquiesce to this request. She also had not told him about her pregnancy or Charlie’s miraculous return and thought it best, for the time being, to lay low in the countryside until she figured out how to address these issues with him.

Charlie spent most of his days tending to the property and beyond, especially helping out Mr. Bowles with his land, now that his son and only farmhand was gone for good. Evey realized that Charlie had a hard time sitting still without regular exercise and was glad of the comfort that working Mr. Bowles’ land provided both of the men. Charlie had managed to assuage his guilt over his tangential involvement with Gerald’s death, and Mr. Bowles had a new companion, which considering his dreadful manners and questionable conversational skills, was quite a feat in itself. 

One morning, shortly after the discussion at Gerald’s grave, Charlie entered Evey’s chilly office to offer her another cup of coffee before he headed out for the day. After clucking on about her lack of a decent sweater and how her excessive caffeine intake might affect the baby, he announced that he was going to rebuild a section of stone fencing that had crumbled in the top field. 

“Really.” Evey said dryly. “Those stones have been down since the fall and they’re very heavy. Why would you choose the middle of January to fix the fence?”

Charlie came up behind her and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

“Your concern is touching.” He murmured into her ear before kissing the lobe lightly.

“I’m being serious, Charlie. You’re not 100% yet – should you be pushing so hard? Surely the fence can wait…”

“You underestimate me, my dear.”

Irrational fear for his safety washed over her and her heart leapt into her throat. Recent events had proven that he was no ordinary man and yet she feared him being out of sight even for something as mundane as farm chores. She tried to shake off the feeling of dread but it was tied up in everything that they had together. She went through the same rollercoaster of emotions every morning as he left her: there was more than one reason why she was hiding out in her pokey office.

“It’s not a sign of weakness to be cautious!” She said more stridently than she had intended.

He turned to her as she spoke and stared down at her with passion that was difficult to hide. He covered the distance between them in two, long strides, wrapped his hand in the folds of her blanket and pulled her into him for a kiss that drew the breath out of her. She was shocked by the response to her statement but all rational thought faded to a dull hum as his tongue forced its way into her mouth and he explored her hungrily. She gave as well as she took, and soon the two were grasping and clutching, rubbing and clawing. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, Charlie grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her firmly away from him. Evey let slip a moan of disappointment and he smiled down breathlessly at her.

“It’s of no use putting off what must be done.” The heat of his gaze shot right through her but she saw that something within him had harnessed it once again. “I’ll only distract you from your work if I stay…”

“I’m happy to be distracted…” She husked.

“Oh, no.” He wagged a finger at her while smiling crookedly. “How would Eric do without you?”

“The same way that he has for the past 2 months…” Evey mumbled under her breath.

“I’ll be back by lunch. Don’t worry about me.” Charlie headed for the door once again.

“Can I trust that you’ll see sense and not strain yourself unduly?” Evey called after him.

“Absolutely not.” He said evenly as he shut the door behind him, leaving Evey fuming.

\-------------------------------------------

As promised, Charlie returned at lunchtime in a quiet mood. His movements were halting and sharp, lacking his natural fluidity, and Evey knew that he had hurt himself. After a taciturn meal with Evey and Sera, he rose suddenly and announced that he was going to take a bath. Evey formulated a plan while she and Sera cleaned up the lunch leftovers, and when Sera excused herself to go visit her parents for the evening, Evey set the plan in motion.

20 minutes later she climbed the stairs to the second floor with a tray carrying a full tea service in her hands. She knocked perfunctorily at the bathroom door but did not wait for a response before she entered and set the tray on the counter near the sink. Charlie sat amongst an orgy of steaming bath bubbles with a battered copy of _The Count of Monte Cristo_ in one hand and a look of mild embarrassment on his face.

“Ummm, hello.” He mumbled.

“Tea?” Evey offered brightly ignoring his discomfort.

“Tea is always welcome, my dear.”

Evey fixed him a cup as he liked it and handed it to him as he set his book down on the chair next to the tub. He tried to avoid her gaze as he thanked her and she wondered, again, why he felt the need to be so proper around her.

“So,” She announced breezily as she helped herself to a cup and sat on the toilet lid. “What have you done to yourself?”

“Nothing.” He croaked between sips. “Nothing _much_ …”

Evey cocked an eyebrow at him. He hissed at her slightly, rolled his eyes and placed his teacup down on top of his book.

“I started to feel lightheaded – my lungs don’t seem to want to heal fully – and I rushed to finish. I bent at the wrong angle and I believe that I have strained my right shoulder.” His eyes flicked to hers with a look that warned her not to gloat. “A good soak will set it right.”

“So would not rushing off half cocked everyday trying to do everything yourself and avoiding me in the process.” She whispered.

“Evey…” He sighed. “I have to.”

“Why?” She felt hurt by the comment.

“Because, after our talk on the mountain, I know that you need _more_ from me. You need me to be… normal, or at least as normal as I can muster. I’ve seen the way that you look at me, my love: you’re happy but you’re also a little bit terrified about what will happen next. Given our history, I don’t begrudge you the feeling.”

His eyes softened as he explained himself and he began to gesticulate with bubble-covered hands that released bubbles as he moved. Soon he was surrounded in an airy halo of iridescent soap as if his speech needed them to bear it to her. 

“I, too, am hesitant about the future. I must discover where I fit in now. I may no longer be in obvious danger but I also, technically, no longer exist. Discovery of my origins, my impending fatherhood, my life-altering connection with you – it all must be synthesized into some kind of plan or purpose for me. I have not figured it out yet. All I know is that I cannot lose you and that you need more stability than I have been able to offer, so, for now, _stability_ has become my main priority. I need to leave you each day so that I may think – in private. It is not because I do not wish to be in your company…” He sighed deeply as he finished.

“I don’t need you to change who you are.” Evey reached out and grabbed a bubbled hand. “I just need you to pick and choose the moments when you decide to put yourself at risk. You will never be normal, and I don’t want you to be. You’re right though; I am a bit terrified about the future, but it’s something that I have to work out for myself.” 

“You are making a start by working for Eric again – this country needs you, Evey.” He squeezed her hand and leaned forward slightly as he stared at her. “I will never leave you again – I’m too bound up in you to go on alone, and I daresay, I think that the same might be true of you as well. Being with you, Evey, and having this baby… it’s everything.”

This time she was the one that closed the gap between them and kissed him soundly. His hands rose to her head, tracing bubbles through her hair as his fingers tangled through her curls. She rose up higher and tipped his head back so that he was forced to open his mouth and she slid her tongue in. He let out a moan and welcomed her deeply, giving and taking with his lips and tongue and breath. Her hand slid from his head down along the far side of the tub rim and she leaned over him precariously. His hands flashed from her hair and splashed in the soapy water as he struggled to grip her and push her away again. He soaked half of her blouse as he pushed her back, and it clung to her just enough to make him aware of how aroused she was.

“No!” He husked.

“No?” She said incredulously. “ _Why_?

“I just… can’t.”

She fell silent for a moment while she tried to find the right words for her next sentence.

“Do you mean that you… aren’t able?” She whispered.

“No! I mean, yes, I’m still capable – no, that’s not the reason.”

“Then, why? Dammit, you’d better give me a good reason, Charles Tenley!” She fixed him with a look that she hoped would place him in corporeal terror if he did not answer her.

“I want to – I should be damned for my lust!” His hand splashed in the bathwater to accent his point. “But, the baby… Evey, it just doesn’t seem… right. Might _it_ not… harm the fetus?”

Evey leaned back and laughed joyously much to Charlie’s consternation. _This_ was why he held back from her? She would dispel him of this fallacy with great enthusiasm. She leaned forward and drew his lips to hers, taking his breath away once again.

“I’m safely through my first trimester, and the baby is probably about the length of your hand, Charlie. I think that it’s perfectly safe to have sex now that I’m healthier and have regained my stamina.” She nuzzled his neck under his ear. “You should have said something, you fool.”

“Oh. I just want this baby so badly, darling. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize her health.” He sighed into her hair.

“Her?”

“Oh yes, it’ll be a girl.”

“On what do you base _that_ assertion?” Evey giggled.

“Because she will be the best of both of our essences, and your strength, your power, Evey, reside in your femininity. I can honestly say that there is very little to recommend about being a man…”

“There’s at least one thing about being male that you should relish… I see that I’ll have to refresh your memory.”

With that, Evey kicked off her slippers and climbed into the bathtub fully clothed on top of him. Water sloshed onto the tile floor and the bubbles threatened to suffocate them both as she grabbed for him in the soapy mess.

“Evey!” He cried before she stopped his mouth with a kiss. 

He grappled with her until he caught her by her waist in both hands, suspending her in the water above him. Her hands crawled down his slick, scarred-riddled chest searching for his arms so that she could release herself. She traced the lines of his ribs and noted for the first time how pronounced they were: evidence of just how much he had lost during his recovery. His frame was still impressive but his muscles were minimal and wiry, which made his strength all the more amazing. She let out a groan of sorrow for his unspoken pain and massaged his chest trying to erase the memories with her fingertips.

“Please, my loving fiend, don’t deny this any longer.” She pleaded with him softly.

His response was to draw her hips down firmly upon him, pressing his arousal between them. She sighed happily at the sensation and he echoed her response that kindled a flame within her. He tried to raise himself up to meet her, but placed too much pressure on his ailing shoulder and fell backwards with a mighty splash. Water from the tub flowed forcefully out, soaking the nearby chair, his book and knocking the teacup from its resting place atop it. Evey’s eyes focused on the cup and before she had time to will herself into motion, she held the cup in her left hand saving it from shattering. Charlie stared at the cup and then at her in amazement. Evey started to shiver all over, and Charlie moved quickly to remove the cup from her hands and cradle her close to him.

“The first time that it happens is frightening – to understand what is happening to your body. It will get easier, I promise.” His voice hitched only slightly as he said it, but his arms squeezed her tight trying to will the worry from her.

“I don’t understand. I didn’t even have time to _think_ about acting… How do I control myself if I don’t think?” Her whisper was small, like a child’s.

Charlie closed his eyes and rocked her gently. She huddled into him to stop her shivering and felt his heartbeat racing in his chest. He rubbed her back and when he spoke again, he sounded confident.

“I will teach you. I will show you how to control it.”

“It’s not just that – though that is frightening enough. I can see farther and with greater detail, I can hear mice in the pantry at night from our bedroom, I got angry at a staffer’s response to one of my emails the other day, and I shattered the coffee mug that I held in my hand…” Evey looked up into his eyes with panic. “What’s happening to me?”

“Shhhh, my love. It did not happen so quickly for me. I had time to adjust to it. But I will help you to master it.” He pulled her face towards his. “You are not alone, Evey, and now, neither am I.”

It took a moment before the entirety of his last sentence penetrated her: all of his remembered existence he had been unique, different and isolated. Even as she loved him, she knew that there were certain things about him that she would never understand. But now everything was different. She had his blood, she had his strengths, and though she felt very isolated, she also had him to guide her and love her and understand her. She felt suddenly connected to him as she could to no other person, and she realized how he must have felt, now, as they both experienced this revelation simultaneously. 

“I love you.” She whispered.

“I know.” 

His lips caught hers as she raised herself from the well of his chest, embracing her in soft, liquid warmth. He cupped her cheek with one hand remembering how he had dreamt of spending days kissing her while he lay alone in the darkness of the Shadow Gallery. The memory made him moan sadly and Evey pushed into him with greater effort to banish whatever was causing him pain. Charlie’s hand moved to her clinging blouse and fumbled with the buttons. After several gentlemanly attempts he grew impatient with the slippery disks and simply yanked the flimsy fabric open revealing a now too-small bra that was practically bursting under its burden. He ran his fingers over and around them admiringly and chuckled lightly.

“Your clothes seem to have shrunk.”

“I haven’t been in here _that_ long. You can thank the baby for those.” She nibbled on his ear.

“I somehow don’t think that would be appropriate given my current intentions.” He growled between succulent bites to her neck.

“Oh really? And what do you _intend_ to do with me?” Evey leaned away from him as a wicked smile spread across her lips.

Charlie sat back in the tub and took his time looking her over. Had it been any other circumstance, the intense scrutiny would have been hard for Evey to bear, but she flushed with pride as his silver eyes lingered here and there, reading her with relish as he would one of his books. In time, he smiled his crooked smile at her.

“Take it off.”

His voice was almost too soft and low to register, but it caused a small shiver to run down her spine. Evey offered him a demure smile, and slowly peeled off the damp ruins of her blouse. It landed on the tile floor with a pronounced splat and she sat in front of him awaiting further instructions.

“And that.” He waved his fingers at her bra.

Evey obliged him once again, only this time the pleasure was twofold as it aroused him, and relieved her of her vicious restraints. Evey made a mental note to go clothes shopping at the first available opportunity. Again, she sat before him and waited for his next request. She resisted the urge to cover herself against the creeping chill of the bathroom; she wanted to allow him his view knowing that whatever dialogue he was having with himself at that moment was more important that goose pimples. Finally, he cleared his throat and, with effort, addressed her.

“I believe that you are still overdressed, my love.”

Evey cocked an eyebrow at him, and after a moment of contemplation, rose up to stand over him and rolled her wet jeans down her legs. When she stood, bathwater flowed off her body and down onto his as he looked up at her. He did not say a word but drew his breath in sharply as the water dripped over him. The noise pleased Evey as she held her discarded jeans in her hand and then deliberately dropped them to the floor with another mighty splat. Then she stood over him, naked, with one hand cocked on her hip, waiting. Charlie extended his hand towards her in a gentlemanly fashion and when she placed her hand in his, he slowly drew her down to resume her position astride him. The reconnection of their bodies, skin to skin, sent a flush of intense heat through Evey that felt strange in the cold bathroom. Momentarily overcome, Evey leaned into Charlie’s chest and wrapped her arms under his. He welcomed her into him and squeezed her body tightly to him, wincing slightly as his right shoulder twitched in complaint.

Evey felt the subtle shift as his shoulder muscles seized, and she began to gently knead the callused skin of his back along his spine’s pressure points. She closed her eyes and buried her face into his neck as she explored the terrain of him by feel alone. She worked her way out from his spine following muscle groups and ribbons of scar tissue upwards to his shoulders. Once there, she focused all of her power into her fingers as they meticulously sussed out pockets of tension and pummeled them into submission. The room was silent save for the sounds of Charlie’s ragged breathing and the lapping of the bath water in the tub. She soon found the seat of Charlie’s shoulder strain when he let out a brief moan and tensed away from her hands. She whispered endearments into his neck as she set to work on the sore spot, pressing her breasts further into his chest as she tried to get more maneuverability for her arms around his back. He moaned again, but this time, in relief and his head lolled against hers as he relaxed into her ministrations.

“I don’t know if your touch is angelic or demonic…” He breathed into her ear.

“I was aiming for a combination of both, actually.” She whispered back.

Moving away from his shoulder, she straightened his arms and set about squeezing the muscles, from the shoulders down, in 3-inch intervals so as to encourage his blood to re-circulate to the area. By the time that she had reached his palms and began massage their pressure points, he was breathing deeply and his body had completely relaxed against her. Feeling newly revitalized, his hands escaped her and clutched her body close.

“Evey, you have no idea how I’ve missed you.”

The sentence barely escaped him before he took her in his mouth. The kiss was warm and deep with an undercurrent of passionate urgency – they had been apart but their bodies retained memories of how to get under each other’s skin. Evey held back for a moment but gave in to her body’s demands to let everything go but her powerful need for him. She moaned gently against him, knowing that this was the only person with which she felt totally unguarded. She leaned him against the back of the tub and arched herself over him. He broke away from her lips and lifted her gently so that he could take her nipple into his mouth. He sucked gently at first, rolling his tongue over its sensitive surface. Evey sheltered him in a cascade of her wet curls as she pulled his head in closer to her.

“Harder.” She murmured.

His mouth intensified its attentions and she breathed out with audible satisfaction as he momentarily relieved the tremendous pressure in her breasts. How would it feel to suckle their baby, she wondered. Would it be as much of a relief as this? Would it be a connection like no other? She hoped so.

Charlie switched to her other breast, and seemed pleased with the moans that his attentions were eliciting. Then, he looked up into face - her eyes half closed, her mouth open slightly with a look of both joy and contemplation. His mouth released her and, unconsciously, his hand skimmed down her torso and came to rest on her lower abdomen. He was quiet for a moment as he concentrated on his hand, its image distorted by the soapy water. Evey felt him harden noticeably under her and it roused her from her own thoughts.

“I know what you are thinking about…” He said distantly and then looked up at her again. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I can imagine how your body might want one thing but your mind might linger on other thoughts. You wouldn’t be alone in that distraction…”

“Don’t you even think about backing down now, Charlie. Not with you pressing into me like a rocket launcher…” She leaned in closer. “Yes, I am thinking about the baby. But I am also thinking about _how I got the baby_ in the first place. I have a surfeit of hormones coursing through my system right now, and if you don’t take me, I feel as if my whole body will explode with wanting. You’d be doing me a tremendous favor by shagging me, really. So, would you be a gentleman and relieve a girl’s discomfort?”

“I am nothing if not a gentleman.” He said after a pause. “I feel duty-bound to offer my assistance in this matter.”

He reached for her only to have her stand up and quickly exit the tub. Her swiftness shocked him – she _was_ becoming more like him. She grabbed the only towel within the room and wrapped it around herself.

“I think that we could find a more comfortable spot than this, don’t you?”

Charlie rose up from the tub and Evey drew in her breath as she watched the bathwater run down him, causing every crease, every curve of him to glisten. Her eyes were drawn to his erection, which pointed towards its aim with passionate intent, and she felt the pressure within her intensify. No more foreplay, she thought. Time for the main event.

With a glint in her eyes, she lit from the bathroom absconding with the only towel. Behind her she heard sloshing as he leapt from the tub after her and chased her down the hallway towards the bedroom. She ducked inside the doorway just in time to see him slide past the opening as his soapy feet slipped on the hardwood floor. Within an instant he reappeared, gripping the doorjamb with menace as she giggled with delight.

“You stole my towel.” He growled.

He lunged at her, ducking down and lifting her off her feet by the waist. Rushing to the bedside, he dropped her on it as her bouncing opened the towel to reveal her newly curvaceous, pink form beneath. He growled again but this time he smiled the crooked smile that she loved so much, and pitched his wet, soapy body on top of hers as she squealed. 

“Ooh! You’re all slippery!” Evey laughed.

“Grrr. Don’t compel me to make an impolite remark about your towel thievery. Or, at how soon that you shall be in a similar condition.”

She laughed in delight at his lascivious remark as he bent his head into her neck and deposited a deep and succulent love bite on her carotid artery. He quickly traced kissed along her collarbone, through the valley of her breasts – pausing for yet another turn at both nipples – and then on past her navel. There he lingered, tonguing the tiny indentation as she squirmed under him. One hand traveled further south and tickled her inner thighs, coaxing her into giving him access. His other hand returned to her breasts kneading them intensely that brought about Evey’s unexpected and rapturous moaning. An escalating ache was forming between her thighs, driving her mad. She continued moaning but was impatient for him and wiggled her hips upwards signaling that he should not dawdle.

“Charlie!” She breathed.

“Not yet, my angel – I want to savor this.” His head rose briefly from her midriff. “You know not how I have dreamt of you these past months…”

“Just don’t get lost in the dream, you devil!” Evey sounded frustrated.

Charlie grinned and sunk down between her thighs, lifting her hips slightly before he inserted a long, curved tongue into her. Evey threw her head back and cried softly – every inch of her was oversensitive. She felt as if she would come if he breathed on her in just the right way; her whole body throbbed and ached awaiting the slightest signal from him. It was a powerful new sensation which made it difficult for her to do anything more than just _react_. She felt paralyzed by it and willed some sense back into the moment. She wondered if it was due to her pregnancy or the changes brought about by the transfusions.

Charlie’s tongue stopped its tender explorations and began to flick rapidly in and out of her folds. She ceased to think again and tried to push his head further down into her. The flicking continued until he relented against her squirming and pushed further in taking a long, loving lick of her. She gasped as he began to suck on her pulsating core and she found that she was unable to keep her body still underneath him. She cried out his name again and started to plead with him. His head rose up from her and he pulled himself up to face her. 

“What was that, my tenderheart? I didn’t quite catch it…” He smiled as he spoke.

“You know damn well what I said, you…”

His mouth descended on hers before she could respond further and he kissed her roughly leaving the taste of her on her lips. She forced her tongue into him, enjoying a small moment of satisfaction that he was so cruelly denying her, and his chest shook with a moan has she played with his mouth. He started to rub himself against her hot center while they kissed, slicking his member with her abundant readiness. She ground her hips into him, trapping his erection and squeezing it between their bodies. He felt enormous and solid as stone. Something in her snapped and she grabbed his ass in both hands and ground him painfully into her. He yelped as the movement bore down on his cock and ignored the pain caused by the bite that she had given him in the process.

“Charlie!” She hissed. “Enough!”

“You asked for it…” He growled.

Charlie took her by the shoulders and flipped her sideways on the mattress. He quickly scooted up behind her, snaking one hand around her abdomen and down between her legs, and the other traveling between her and the bed, wrapping securely around her shoulders. He pushed his erection against the crease of her buttocks and they both groaned simultaneously feeling the keening need to connect. He wriggled his finger into her, which produced and flush of wetness so strong that he leaned into her back trying to steady himself against her desire. She pushed her buttocks against him as he used his hand to separate her legs slightly. Then he shuffled down her back and eased himself into her from behind. 

The moment that he slid home in her, he felt on fire. She was beyond warm – almost feverish around him – and he felt dizzy. She was so ready for him that she took him in completely with his first thrust. His hand continued to alternately circle her opening and squeeze her inner thigh, but she did not need the encouragement. Evey mewled and moaned in time with his stroking, occasionally calling out his name in a way that made him short of breath. She arched her lower back away from him, though she was still held firmly by his grip on her shoulders. The movement increased their friction and tightened her around him, so that his enflamed lust exploded into a desperate need for release. 

He thrust into her harder and faster, mumbling incoherently as he did so. Evey reached back and grabbed a butt cheek, bringing him crashing into her behind.

“Harder.” She whispered.

“Evey…”

“Harder!”

He slammed into her over and over as she cried out in joy and fulfillment. His lower hand tilted her pelvis further forward and rubbed her relentlessly until the bubble of her desire burst and she erupted in his arms, flowing over and around him. The bed frame started to make terrible creaking noises as he bore into her body violently, sinking his teeth into the nape of her neck as he came. He pushed deep and high inside her, and jerked in fitful spasms trying to leave as much of himself safely within her for as long as he could. His cry echoed in her ears, so much like her own, speaking to the end of loss and the joy of reunion. 

They fell asleep almost immediately, without speaking, with Charlie still firmly anchored inside her.

\--------------------------------------------------

Evey opened her eyes slowly and looked up to find Charlie staring down at her, his head propped up on his hand. He smiled and quickly kissed her forehead as she tried to shake the drowsiness from her mind. They were both still ensconced in the white overabundance of their bed and the daylight streaming through the windows spoke to the rosy hour before twilight.

“How long were we asleep?”

“About an hour and a half, I think.” He murmured still staring at her like a lovesick schoolboy.

She yawned and stretched, enjoying the pull on her muscles. She felt pummeled and thoroughly sated. A glow of contentment settled over her.

“Well, I don’t know about you,” She whispered as she snuggled in closer to him. “But I’m very glad that we didn’t wait another 6 months to do _that_.”

“Me too.” He kissed her. “Although now, you’ll have to beat me off with a stick to keep me from you…”

“Well, THAT could be fun too!” She giggled as he kissed her again.

Charlie tore himself away from her after a moment and reached over to the drawer of the bedside table. He quickly produced a small box and rolled it around in his hand ponderously. His expression had changed and was all seriousness again. Evey reached up to stroke his cheek.

“What have you got there?”

He tossed the box into the air and caught it with a flourish, evidently making up his mind about something in that brief span of time. He turned to her and handed her the box without a word. She opened it and discovered two gold bands within nestled onto black velvet. One was small and the other large: a pair of wedding bands.

“What’s this?” Evey gasped.

She pulled the smaller ring from its bed and looked at it closely. It was simple gold band with two, tiny roses intertwined on its face.

“I will never be able to marry you in a church, Evey, or in the eyes of the law. But you are mine, and I am yours, as surely as any consecrated vow could attest. I may not be able to give you my name, but I can give you the jewelry and offer up my oath to you, here, in our sanctuary.”

Charlie took the ring from her and slid it onto her left ring finger where it settled snugly as if it had always lived there.

“Know that when you look on this, that you are mine –always.” He was whispering as if in church.

“How do you ever manage to make these things so… perfect?” She looked up at him suddenly and he saw that her eyes were glassy with tears.

“It’s not so hard when one is properly motivated.” He chuckled.

Evey grabbed the larger ring and moved to place it on his hand when a glint of light flashed from inside the band.

“There’s something written here: _Io suiicien lui dami amo_.” She looked up at him quizzically. “What does it mean?”

“I’m not sure of its exact origins but it was often inscribed on betrothal jewelry or promissory gifts in the Middle Ages. Roughly translated it means: this ring is in place of the friend that I love.” He stroked her cheek suddenly. “I could have no better friend than you, Evey.”

She looked away from him so that she would not cry, then, reverently, slipped the large band onto his finger. Burying her head into his chest, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. Tears dampened her cheeks as she placed a tender kiss on his chest, over his heart.

“Here’s to a long and passionate friendship, my love.” Her voice caught in her throat with feeling.

“Yes, darling.” Charlie sighed with pride and relief. “Here’s to us.”


	22. Just When You Least Expect It, Just What You Least Expect

Winter marched on and slowly gave way to spring. In harmony with the weather, Evey and Charlie warmed to each other and soon found themselves aflame in the same desperate need for one another that had characterized their first days together. As Evey’s belly grew so did Charlie’s realization that he truly possessed the one person that he never thought he could have. As promised, he showed Evey how to navigate the new and terrifying physical changes happening to her. With each lesson, an invisible binding tugged him closer to her as he felt akin to someone for the first time in his life: he was no longer alone. It was one thing to be loved and accepted – it was more than he could have hoped for – but to look on someone who was _the same_ was something that he had given up on, and it intoxicated him. Though Evey had come by her abilities in a less horrific fashion than he did, he saw her fighting her way through her new reality with the same terror and determination as he. It was perverse, but he felt as though he had finally discovered a family to which he belonged, and that sense of belonging held more sway over him than he could have imagined. If ever his love for Evey had threatened to sink him, he was most in danger of it now. Charlie kept these new, powerful feelings to himself, too fearful to release them and face the consequences of such raw intimacy.

On a rare mild spring afternoon, Charlie and Evey exercised on the lawn outside the kitchen. Charlie was explaining how to focus her vision to such a degree that Evey would be able to _anticipate_ movement during an attack. This would provide her with valuable seconds to maneuver and avoid harm. Later, he promised, he would show her how to use this skill with weapons, which was the secret of his unerring aim with knives. But weapons were not appropriate now that Evey was six months along. Charlie had raised objections to showing her hand-to-hand tactics while she was pregnant but Evey had insisted, claiming that the exercise and focus were good for her and that she would stop if she felt anything unusual.

“Remember,” said Charlie “the eyes lead all movement. Once you determine the intended direction from your opponent’s gaze, focus on that direction with the meditation techniques that I’ve shown you. You cannot slow time, but by controlling your anticipated response, you can gain the advantage. Ready?”

“You make this sound like a recipe with a thousand ingredients. I understand the components but I can’t imagine how I’m supposed to combine them in a split second.” Evey grumbled.

“You have already done so – remember the teacup? It’s the same reaction, but now you understand the actions _behind_ that reaction. In time you will not see the difference.”

“Okay.” She did not sound convinced. “Let’s try it then…”

Charlie hesitated a moment then lunged at her without warning, his right hand raised to strike her. Evey dodged and blocked his hand with her left arm. Pivoting on her left leg and swinging her body clockwise, she yanked his right arm forward by grabbing his wrist with her right hand and pulled him away from her using his forward momentum as leverage. Charlie was successfully thrown off balance but grabbed her right hand with his left and pulled her with him. He pulled up suddenly, returning to his teacher’s pose.

“Good, you saw my intent. But you were so desperate to get away from me that you stopped reading me – you did not see what I would do with my left hand. This time focus throughout the movement. Nothing must slip your attention, my love.”

Evey frowned and sighed loudly, but resumed her original position indicating that she was ready to try again. Charlie lunged, this time from the right, and Evey successfully blocked him and batted away his other hand before she pulled up short and gasped. Charlie grabbed her from behind to support her from falling.

“Evey!”

“It’s alright,” she breathed “The baby wants in on this too. Here, feel.”

Evey took his right hand and placed it over her belly just in time to feel a furious bout of baby bumping. She pressed his fingers against the commotion firmly and he gasped over her shoulder behind her.

“Feel it? She’s pretty feisty.” Evey giggled.

Charlie’s vision flashed white hot as if he was staring into strobe lights. His eyes narrowed until he could only see the section of Evey that he was touching. Her skin throbbed and stretched grotesquely as the creature within her fought to escape. He saw the outline of elongated fingers tearing at the layers of epidermis separating it from freedom. A tiny face pressed against her belly, its mouth opened in a silent scream of rage. He saw the outlines of fangs.

“Evey, there’s something inside you!” His blood throbbed in his ears.

“Of course there is.” Evey continued to giggle.

“We have to get it out!”

“It’ll take care of that on its own in a few months, love.” She turned to look at him over her shoulder still smiling.

A look of grim terror had settled over his features and his eyes were wide but distant as if focusing on something very far away. He backed away from her and his shoulders and arms stiffened. His stance widened automatically as he prepared to do violence. He was still staring directly at her belly.

“Charlie?” Evey’s smile faded.

The lights flashed, continuing to blind him. In between flashes, all he could see was the feral form attempting to tear its way out of his beloved’s body. The blood roared in his ears so that he could scarcely hear anything else. His temples pounded suddenly and painfully in time with his pulse – if he did not act now, he would soon be incapacitated and Evey would be alone, without protection. He fumbled at his belt under his coat and found one of his knives. It slid down cool and sure into his hand.

“Charlie!” Evey cried out as she saw the knife.

“We have to get it out!” 

Charlie pounced forward leading with his knife blade. Evey awkwardly dodged the lunge with a gasp. As he passed her, his knife sliced her right arm upwards three inches. He turned and came at her again but this time Evey’s vision slowed and focused on his eyes as if by instinct. Without hesitation she reached out and grabbed both of his hands in her own as she pivoted and swung him sideways towards the stonewall of the house. His forward momentum caused him to slam into the wall with considerable force, winding him. He rolled on his shoulder so that his back was flat against the wall. Using it as a brace, he put all of his effort into his hands that were still held fast by Evey. 

“Charlie! STOP!” She cried.

His power was unbelievable. She was using everything that she had just to keep his knife hand still and away from her. He was not looking at her and she was not certain that he was _seeing_ anything. His hands began to win their arm wrestle and started to edge the knife blade closer to her belly. Evey whimpered as her mind raced as to what to do to stop him. Suddenly, she remembered a movie that she had seen once and smashed her head into his with all of her remaining force. He became dazed for a moment, his focus broken. Evey smashed her head into his again and this time his skull bounced off the stonewall behind him and his hands released the knife as his knees buckled.

Evey’s head was reeling as she broke away and fumbled for his dropped knife. She found it and crouched low, watching and waiting for his renewed attack. He growled as he reached behind his head and his fingers came away with blood on them. He blinked at his hand, still half bent against the wall, and then he turned and stared at Evey. She faced him in a combat stance, her face contorted with rage as blood from her wounded arm flowed down over her hand and the knife that it clutched.

“Evey!” He gasped in shock, his temples still pounding mercilessly.

Charlie stared at his hand again, eyes wide in disbelief. He stumbled forward, his arms outstretched in a plea for help. Evey backed away lightly and swiftly, her eyes flashing over him to catch every possible movement. He faltered.

“Evey, what happened?”

“You tried to kill the baby.” She said evenly.

Charlie’s face crumpled into an expression that Evey had never seen before. His arms wrapped around him as he curled into himself and leaned against the wall.

“No!” he whispered “No, I would _never_ …”

Evey eased up slightly as he moaned and slid down the side of the wall. He looked as if he was going to die of grief suddenly.

“You don’t remember?” she asked cautiously.

“I was showing you how to focus your vision – that’s what I remember!” He cried out and then looked down at her arm. “You’re hurt!”

“I’m fine.” Evey’s terror was quickly melting into fear for Charlie. What had just happened?

Charlie groaned loudly and held his throbbing head in his hands, squeezing it tightly. The flashes of light remained at the edges of his vision and nausea was rising from the pit of his stomach – he had to get away from here. He rose up the side of the wall, crying out as he did so when the throbbing intensified. He shook his head from side to side repeatedly and then lurched off into the house without another word.

Evey stood rock still on the walkway holding his knife, and bleeding. Her breathing had slowed and her mind had cleared as if the whole incident had happened to someone else. Finally she sagged her shoulders releasing the tension there and she looked down at her wounded arm for the first time. She shuddered uncontrollably for a minute as she dropped the knife and wrapped her hands protectively around her belly. She closed her eyes as a tear rolled down her cheek. _The other shoe finally dropped._ She did not begin to cry openly until she felt the cool solidness of her wedding ring press into her belly.

\-----------------------------

 

Evey cleaned herself up and went in search of Charlie. One room after another came up empty until at last she headed for the room that Charlie was converting into a nursery. He had made her promise not to enter it until he was finished and she had kept her word – such was the power of his excitement and pride – until now. The sun had just set, placing the countryside in wintry twilight. When she entered the room, she was in darkness save for the light from the hallway outside. After a moment her eyes adjusted and she saw him sitting next to a baby crib with his head leaning against the bars.

At once she took in the room. It had a toy chest, a change table, two adult chairs, a large bookshelf and the crib. He had received the crib and chest from Sera and had spent time refinishing them with help from Mr. Bowles. The chairs were new and handmade, which explained why he had come home so often smelling of wood shavings. She looked up and saw that the ceiling of the room was painted as the night sky complete with accurate depictions of northern constellations. The nursery walls were half painted in another mural in the Art Nouveau style depicting a host of smiling fairies, wood nymphs and forest creatures. He clearly had not finished it yet. Evey’s heart ached at the obvious display of love in the room. Toys already spilled out of the toy chest and he had already begun to fill the bookshelf with tomes that he would delight in reading to his child. This was the man she knew, not the creature who had tried to cut their baby out of her body.

“Charlie” She whispered.

He did not move or react to her presence. She moved further into the room and light from the hallway hit his face causing him to flinch and turn his head away in pain. _The migraines are back_ , she thought and quickly went out into the hall and doused the light.

“Is that better?” she asked gently, and he nodded.

She went to the bathroom and quickly found his medication in the dark. She returned to him, crossing the floor silently, and offered him a pill and a glass of water. After he had swallowed, she put the glass aside and stroked his lowered head lightly as she knelt before him.

“How can you trust me?” He said finally.

“Because I know you.” She replied.

They were both silent for several minutes as she continued to caress him. His hands slowly began to move towards her and one landed lightly on her bandaged arm.

“Evey,” his voice was thick with pain “There is no way for me to atone for what I have done today.”

“It wasn’t you.” She hushed.

“I don’t remember it at all, and if I can’t remember it, I can’t stop it from happening again.” His voice hitched slightly and she knew what he was building up to.

“You won’t have to. I’m going to take care of this. I’m going to take care of you, Charlie.”

His head rose up and his eyes stared into hers in confusion.

“How?” he croaked.

“Leave it to me.” Evey stroked the side of his face and kissed him tenderly. “Come, you need to rest.”

Too heartbroken and confused to put up a fight, he allowed her to lead him from the nursery and down the hall to their bedroom. He lay down with an audible sigh as she wrapped him in a blanket. She murmured to him quietly as she kissed his forehead, eyelids and cheeks, and waited patiently for his breathing to slow and lengthen. In time, he felt her go and stayed awake long enough to catch her talking on the telephone in her office…

“…do whatever it takes, Mr. Bogelman – find Sidney Sumner for me.”


	23. The Dimly Lit Road

Charlie awoke alone in the darkness of the bedroom. The house was still and cool around him. He rose from the bed wearily, his head bearing the aftershocks of his migraine. Wrapping a blanket around him, he padded down the hallway in search of his wife. He found her curled on the couch in front of the fire; its soft glow was the room’s only illumination against the evening’s dark. He stood just inside the doorframe and watched her undisturbed for a while: her face held a kind a blankness that happened when her thoughts were deeply entrenched elsewhere and her small hands absently stroked her growing belly. An occasional exploding spark from the fire would cause her to blink or her toes to twitch, but then she would return to her meditation and become as still as he.

“Penny.” He broke the silence as gently as he could.

She turned to face him in bewilderment and embarrassment at being caught off guard. Her face still held the confusion of one trapped between two planes of consciousness.

“Pardon?”

“Penny for your thoughts, though I’m certain that they are worth more than that.”

Evey smiled and patted the cushion next to her on the couch. Charlie walked over hesitantly and stood before her in the firelight. He wanted to join her and to tell how much he hated himself for his actions that day, but he could not find words worthy of such an apology. He was dangerous to her and he always would be – if it was not one thing, it was something else. He could not ask her to trust him with the life of their child, no matter how much he loved it already. What would happen next was unclear to him: he could not live with or without them. Evey patted the cushion again and he sat.

“How are you feeling?” she asked quietly with her eyes still on the fire.

“Better.” His heart tightened in his chest as words spun out of control in his cranium. “Evey, I…”

“I don’t have to guess, you know.” She cut him off.

“Guess what?”

“At what you’re thinking…” She turned to face him, half of her lost in shadow. “And I won’t even consider what you are about to propose, so you can save your breath.”

He reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. She was so beautiful when she was stubborn. He had had his doubts as to whether they were destined to be together over the long term but he could not imagine anyone with less fortitude remaining by his side considering all of the problems that he possessed. When he had first realized that he was in love years ago, he had no idea that it would feel, by degrees, like the best and the worst experience of his life. He could not be without her. But, sometimes, the hurt, the misery and the doubts that separated them seemed too much to bear. Surely, love was not like this for everyone – there had to be a happy medium somewhere, if only he could manage to find it.

“Oh Evey, I don’t know what to do now.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. His confession of helplessness shook him to the core. “What happens now?”

Evey snuggled as much of herself that would fit into the hollow of his chest, and breathed him in deeply.

“I’m working on it, my love. You must trust me to find a way for both of us.” She said.

She found his lips and silenced him. The fear and hesitation that he hated inside himself bubbled to the surface and he refocused it into her. Her reassurance, her fidelity fired his passion as his mouth pressed harder into hers. One hand reached for her neck and drew her closer as the other slipped around her waist and pressed her swollen belly against his flat, taunt one. His child, his woman, his _life_ \- no, he could never give them up. 

“I trust you, Evey.” He breathed between kisses. “I trust you.”

A knock on the side door brought them both back to reality, flushed and breathless. The clock on the fireplace mantle read 10:15. Charlie rose quickly, his body tense and ready to react with force. Signaling silently that Evey should remain where she was, he walked through the darkened kitchen and to the greenhouse door. He opened it swiftly and came face to face with Dominic Stone.

Dominic’s face registered weariness, shock, confusion, and downright surprise in quick succession. Charlie fought hard to keep his own mouth from falling open. Both men neither moved nor said anything for a long moment, and then Dominic reached forward suddenly and hugged Charlie forcefully.

“My God, man! You’re supposed to be dead!” Dominic leaned back again to look at Charlie once more. “But here you are – Good God, it’s wonderful to see you again!”

Charlie stood back from the doorway dumbstruck and allowed Dominic inside.

\---------------------------------------------

“Is Evey here? She must be ecstatic at your return. I’ve never seen someone shut down so completely as she did after your…um, death, and, as you can imagine, I’ve met a lot of grieving people in my line of work…” Dominic was babbling. “We were worried that she was just holding on long enough to get her affairs in order herself – she just stopped… being Evey.”

Charlie was too overwhelmed to speak. He led the verbally incontinent inspector into the living room in hopes that Evey might calm him down. Dominic entered the room, saw Evey and walked forward to greet her. Evey stood with a shocked but pleasant look on her face and went to hug Dominic when his eyes fell to her belly and he stopped short.

“Oh my God, look at _you_ , Evey!” He exclaimed. Charlie rolled his eyes and headed for the liquor cabinet.

“Oh my! You two didn’t waste anytime reuniting, did you?” The inspector laughed nervously. “Wonderful. How wonderful for you both…”

Dominic asked to feel Evey’s belly which she readily agreed to, noting the proprietary scowl crossing Charlie’s face as the inspector laid hands on her. As if on cue, the baby kicked and Dominic’s face went pale and silent as Charlie guided him away from his wife and towards a chair near the fire.

“Wow.” Was all he could muster.

Charlie thrust a glass containing a liberal amount of single malt in the inspector’s direction, which was received with a thankful smile and a profound nod of gratitude. Dominic downed the scotch smartly, shook the cobwebs from his head, and began to speak.

“I had come here to speak to you, Evey, of an important matter. To ask a favor, really. But the revelations of the last few minutes have made that task more problematic…”

Evey looked to Charlie, and he to her. They both knew what the inspector was referring to: Charlie had committed a crime – several, in fact – with his actions at Vervain MedCom, but since he had died in the commission of those acts, nothing had been done about it. Now, as the inspector had ample evidence of Charlie’s resurrection, he could be charged with arson, murder and a whole host of other crimes for which there would be no defense.

“Tell me why you came, Dom.” Evey had to know what she was dealing with.

“Something has happened. Prime Minister Smitherham has been implicated in a money-laundering scheme, the ignorant windbag! We’ve tried to keep it under wraps but it’ll break in tomorrow’s news. He’s done for. He’ll resign and the deputy P.M. will take over but he’s no more than a lame duck. The current government will suffer a parliamentary vote of non-confidence sooner or later and it’ll lead to an election. You can see where I’m going with this, can’t you?” Dominic raised an eyebrow at Evey. 

Evey nodded.

“Are you here on Eric’s behalf?” she sighed.

“No, he wouldn’t dare ask you after all that you’ve been through this year. But you know that he needs you in this, Evey – he needs someone that he can trust _implicitly_ by his side if he is to become Prime Minister.” Dominic leaned forward. “If you came to him and offered your services…”

Evey sighed again and rubbed her belly absently. Her eyes flitted to Charlie, who stood motionless and unreadable in the shadows of the room. Dominic caught the look and cleared his throat.

“I came here as a private citizen and as a friend. As far as I’m concerned, your private life is private, Evey. Legally, Charlie is dead and the crimes that he was accused of died with him.”

“Can you live with that, Dom?” Evey asked quietly.

“As a cop, I have compromised my personal values for the law more times than I can count,” he sighed “It’s about time that the scales evened out a bit. Dr. Susan was into all kinds of illegal activity over the years, as it turns out, and I’m convinced that we’re better off that she’s gone. Even Ms. Sumner contacted me and asked that no further fuss was made over the manner in which her mother died, though I’m not certain that her motivation was entirely selfless…”

Dominic looked at Charlie in the gloom.

“I will not separate a father from his child over this matter.” He looked back at Evey. “Nor will I place you in that personal hell that I saw you in a few short months ago, Evey.”

Her head dropped so as to hide her tears from Dominic’s gaze. She wrapped her arms around her belly and tried to control the hitching in her chest. Charlie watched her from the darkness, seeing for the first time the ravages of the grief that he had never witnessed. He stood rooted to the spot, helpless, as he watched her momentarily lose control and them wrestle it back again. Dominic’s words repeated in his head: _we were worried that she was just holding on long enough to get her affairs in order herself_. A love like that cannot be right, he thought. But, then, does it follow that loving someone so strongly is wrong?

“Evey,” Dominic spoke again “You need not decide now. It will take a few weeks for the Smitherham fallout to play out completely. And you two should discuss it considering the baby and all. I know that it’s a lot to ask of you now, but I wouldn’t have disturbed your solitude for anything less than something of this importance – you _know_ that.”

Dominic rose to leave, and then turned to face them both.

“Two things before I leave: 1. You must tell Eric of your pregnancy, whatever you choose to do. You cannot hide here forever, Evey. And 2. Do not, under any circumstances, reveal Charlie’s existence to him. No matter how much he loves you, Evey, or respects Charlie, his cop’s mind could never live with the burden that I can so easily shoulder. Plus, it would present itself as a political liability if you chose to work on his campaign. I know that it will be difficult, but do it for his sake. You know that I’m right about this.”

Evey nodded gravely, then rose and embraced Dominic tightly.

“You are a true friend, Dom.” She whispered. “Thank you. I will consider all that you have said.”

Dominic flushed in her arms. He pulled away and ran his hand through his hair in distraction.

“We’ll call it even if you let me baby sit every once and a while: I came from a big family, you know, and I rather miss having little tykes to mind…” He nodded towards the belly.

“Sure thing, Uncle Dom.” Evey smiled.

Charlie walked Dominic to his car.

“Sure that you won’t stay the night? It’s getting late and we have plenty of room…” he offered.

“No, thanks. I like driving at night and I have a full day in the city tomorrow dealing with b.s. from the Smitherham thing. I imagine that you two will have plenty to discuss anyway.” Dominic shook Charlie’s hand firmly. “It’s good that you’re here, Charlie.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure…”

“ _I_ would. You didn’t see her after the bombing, old chap. She came out here to die, you know. Eric wouldn’t contemplate it, but I saw it in her when she left London. Trust me: it’s good that you’re here. We have need of her.”

Dominic chucked Charlie on the shoulder in that way that men do, then got into his car and waved once without looking back. Charlie watched the taillights diminish down the laneway until they disappeared when the car reached the main roadway. He gazed up into the spring night sky and looked at the light given off by dead stars millions of light years away from them. Their death brought light, life and hope to those on this planet and Charlie breathed deeply, thinking that the universe’s sense of irony was quite profound. Then, he turned and walked back into the house to find a way forward with Evey.

\---------------------------------------------------------

The discussion was brief.

“You have to go, Evey.”

“To do what, exactly? I’m six months pregnant, Charlie – if they called an election tomorrow I’d be giving birth before the first ballots were counted… I’d be next to useless, plus I’d be lying about you, and our life together. Never mind the strange changes happening to my body…” She sighed in frustration and Charlie could see the war of desires between the love for her family and the passion to leap back into politics. 

“Who would care for the baby while I worked? What would we do about _us_? I’d have to relocate to London – I can’t be without you, Charlie!” She paced the room, finally stopping as he barred her path with his body and held her firmly in his grip.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself. You have to go see him, if only to tell him about the baby. Sooner or later he would have come to you just as Dominic did – you owe him an answer one way or the other.” He bent to look into her eyes. “I can see that you want to say yes, Evey.”

“How can you be so cavalier about this!” She wriggled under his grip. “Knowing of our ‘specialness’, our baby, and your medical issues, how can you encourage me in this?”

“Because you are _needed_ , Evelyn! Not just by me or by our baby – though we both need you desperately – but you are needed by Eric and, hyperbole aside, by England as well. What’s more, you have a need to matter, don’t you? You always have. Well, _this_ way you will matter to millions of Britons.”

Evey hugged him close and felt his heart hammering inside his chest.

“But, what about us?” she mumbled.

“It’ll all work out, my love.” He lied. “You must do this. I would never be content knowing that you turned it down because of me.”

“Charlie, no.” She squeezed him harder.

“My love,” he raised her face to his “You aren’t committing to anything by going to speak with him. Tell me honestly, in your heart, don’t you want to do this?”

She nodded after a long pause, and tears accompanied the nod.

“Then, you must try, petal. Go and see Eric.” 

_Go, before I hurt you any further_ , he added in his head. He wiped away her tears with roughened fingers and smiled crookedly at her – he knew that she could not resist his smile.

“Alright?” he sounded hopeful.

“Alright.” She agreed. “But I won’t commit to any plan that keeps me from you. That’s not a life that I want, Charlie. None of this means anything without you.”

“I know.” He kissed her softly. “I’ll be here when you get back and we’ll find a plan that works for us both.”

After a few more whispered reassurances and caresses, Evey went up to their room to pack a bag. She would leave for London in the morning. Charlie sat slumped in front of the fire as dark thoughts flitted around his head like confused bats. Was there to be no peace for them? No contentment? Deep down he felt that he was just incapable of it – that he was not built for happiness. He looked deep into the dying firelight and focused on one wavering flame, remembering the sensation of being burned: the smell of cooking flesh, the pain followed by its absence, the sense of apathy as one accepts one’s death. He had always been half dead. It was a part of him and he could not shake it off. Evey would never understand it. How long could he hide it from her? How long could he hide it from his child? His love was boundless but so was the pain that preceded it. If he could not learn to control his pain, he would lose everything. He needed Evey to be gone for a few days; he felt something foreboding and powerful building within him. He would watch her leave tomorrow and be glad, for the first time since he met her, to see her recede into the distance.


	24. Through A Child's Eyes

Charlie slept poorly after Evey left for London. Normally a minimal yet deep sleeper, he awoke several times each evening with a mounting sense of anxiety that seemed to have no cause. His half remembered dreams jolted him awake and when he reached out for her comforting warmth, his hand only hit air and cool sheets. He moved through his days distractedly as he was denied rest at every opportunity. Instead of affording him space to think clearly, he was working himself into a disarrayed state without her. Her voice on the telephone each night served as a reminder that she was close but not close enough, and he could not bring himself to confess his vague fears to her when she was in no position to do anything about them.

Wearily, he laid himself down in their bed, once again, in search of rest. He placed her sweater on the pillow next to him, so that her scent might linger and comfort him while he dreamed. Almost immediately he fell into a deep, dark sleep. His body relaxed as he drifted through the soothing nothingness, muscle groups silently thanking him for whatever alchemy he had performed in order to give them some ease.

“Daddy?”

He moved around in the darkness fitfully.

“Daaaaaaaaaddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy….” The voice drew out the word in a long singsong voice followed by a little giggle. “C’mon Daddy, wake up! I want to play!”

“Who’s there?” he asked the darkness.

“Daddy, you’re silly. It’s Clare.” The voice said matter-of-factly.

Distantly, a small pale face illuminated in the blackness. Floating like the moon in a starless night the tiny face approached him. The porcelain skin framed her delicate features and the huge, deep pools of her eyes. She was like a miniature Evey except her hair was darker and straighter. Her face held her mother’s joy and her father’s soberness in equal measure.

“Daddy!” She yelled again and this time burst into a radiant smile that transformed her in sheer delight. She giggled – yelling his name had become a game – and he found himself smiling back at her in response.

“Hello Clare,” he tried the name on for size “What are you doing here?”

He found himself suddenly sitting on the edge of his bed. Instead of answering his question, Clare made a great effort to climb up his legs and into his lap, sticking her tongue out slightly with the effort. He bent down and scooped her up easily, and Clare repaid him by gripping his neck ferociously and presenting him with a wet kiss on his ear. 

“Umm, thank you, my dewdrop.”

“’elcome.” Clare responded absently as she became enthralled in her Daddy’s nightshirt.

“Clare, where’s Mommy?”

The little body squirmed in his embrace and moved around his lap as if she were part snake. She was no older than 4 and he struggled with how to talk to her so that he might make sense and not frighten her.

“Mommy went away.” She said quietly.

“Where, baby, where did Mommy go?”

Clare shrugged her shoulders and ducked her head into his chest. She burrowed into him until his shirt parted and revealed some skin. She pushed her lips against the skin and blew out loudly making an impressively disgusting noise that shocked him. She fell back into his arms wriggling and laughing with her whole body.

“I zerberted you!” 

“So you did, you little urchin!” Charlie grabbed the hem of her shirt and lifted it enough to show off her pump tummy. With much dramatic growling and giggling he lowered his head and returned the favor loudly and wetly.

Clare kicked out her feet in delight and howled with glee. She squirmed enthusiastically as Charlie fought her elasticity and gravity to keep her from falling out of his lap.

“Come here, you little squirmy worm.” He growled as her blew raspberries on either cheek and then tickled her sides for good measure.

Clare laughed and wiggled and shouted at the top of her lungs. Her eyes shut tightly and her mouth smiled until it produced little dimples in each cheek as she begged her Daddy to stop tickling her. He granted her wish finally, realizing that he too was laughing out loud. He cuddled the child into him – rocking her gently - and listened as her breathing calmed and she settled into his chest.

“Don’t let Mommy go away.” Clare murmured into his shirt.

“What do you mean, poppet?”

Clare climbed up his front and stood on his legs so that she faced him at eye level, her tiny fingers laced around his neck for security. 

“You sent her away, Daddy. You wanted her to be safe, but she never came back.” Clare’s eyes filled with tears and her lower lip trembled.

“She _never_ came back?” His heart went cold as he said the words.

Clare shook her head and just as he thought that she would burst into tears, he saw her little face stiffen and he felt her shore herself up under his fingers.

“You said that you were afraid. You were afraid and you sent Mommy away. But Mommy didn’t want to go away, did she? She wanted to stay with us, but you wouldn’t let Mommy stay.” Clare buried her head into his neck. “I miss Mommy. You said that you made a mistake.”

“Why would I send her away?” Charlie asked but did not expect an answer. His armful grabbed one of his ears and looked directly at him.

“You said that you were a fool just like Omelet and that you drove away someone who loved you because of Miss Givings. I don’t know who that is, though.”

“Omelet?” he was confused.

“Yes, he was the prince of Denmark…”

“Hamlet!” Charlie smiled with sudden enlightenment. “You remember the play?”

“Yeah, lots of people get angry and everybody dies.” Clare shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “Don’t let Mommy go, Daddy! It’s not too late to not be an Omelet!”

Charlie clutched his daughter close to him and fought back the tears of sorrow while being enthralled by this tiny creature. It was no longer time for self-pity or navel gazing. He knew that he was dreaming but, whether this was an actual incarnation of his child or merely a fanciful projection, he could never do anything but nurture and protect her. He wanted endless nights of storytelling. He wanted endless zerberts. He wanted the family that he was owed by decades of abuse and self-sacrifice. And, he wanted a safe England for them to grow old in. He wanted it all and anything less was, well, _less_. There would be no more skimping in his life – whatever he had left of it.

“I’ll go get Mommy, Clare. I’ll bring her back – we’ll be a family, Daddy promises you. No Omelets.”

“Oh, Daddy!” Clare leaned forward and knocked her forehead against his. “Brain kiss for you.”

“Thank you, sweetness. I ‘brain kiss’ you back – you’re a very smart girl, you know…”

“I know.” Clare offered casually as she bounded from Charlie’s lap and ran about in figure eights in front of him. “Mommy’s coming, Mommy’s coming, Mommy’s coming, Mommy’s coming…”

Clare’s movements widened and on one of her laps she disappeared into the darkness entirely, though Charlie could still hear her chanting. 

“Clare, come back! Daddy can’t see you…” He yelled, his heart tightening with worry.

“I’m with Mommy. Bring Mommy back.” Her voice called from far beyond him in its singsong lilt. The darkness weighed against him as he tried to rise and follow her. No matter how he struggled, he could not move an inch.

“Clare! CLARE, COME BACK!” He roared as he sat paralyzed. “COME BACK!”

_CLARE!_

\--------------------------------------------------------

Charlie awakened in a tangle of bed sheets, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing.

“Clare?”

The dim outlines of the bedroom of Briar House solidified under his gaze and he flopped back into the bed realizing that he had been dreaming. He breathed in sharply and threw the sheets from his body as he vaulted himself out of bed with a low growl. Briskly and with purpose, he rustled through the wardrobe and the dressing table to find the things that he would need and placed them in a travel bag. He turned towards the window and judged the light while he hastily buttoned a shirt: if he drove all night, he should be there before breakfast. A knowing smile crossed his lips.

“No more Omelets for me.” He murmured as he grabbed his bag and headed for the driveway.


	25. A Safe Place

Sasha stood behind the reception desk and watched the people come and go with a sigh. She had hopes of having a glamorous career when she had taken up hospitality management, but really, being a hotel manager was a lot like being a security guard: lots of waiting with little to excite or engage. The Royalton, though a relatively new hotel, was upscale, and in her time, she had dealt with celebrities and politicians. Yet the veneer of the high life seemed quite thin to her. She rarely met anyone who returned her civility with genuine feeling, and most just looked upon her as a glorified manservant. To top it all off, she never _met_ anyone and her hours demanded that she spend most of her time seeing to other’s needs and not those of her lonely heart. She sighed again and rested her chin in the palm of her hand: nothing interesting ever happened to her.

“Err, pardon me, miss, but are you feeling alright?”

Sasha leapt out of her daydream suddenly. A handsome gentleman stood before her, his head still inclined in inquiry, dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit. The cut of it emphasized his long, clean lines and sharp edges. He was not a young man – both his bearing and a manner in his air spoke to maturity – yet his face was unlined and unworried by the progression of the years. He smiled kindly at her, which made his blue eyes twinkle, and she blushed slightly as he reached for her hand.

“I’m sorry that I startled you, miss. I thought that you saw me arrive. Are you sure that you are alright?” He continued to smile as her patted her hand.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine. Welcome to the Royalton, sir. Checking in?”

“No.” He shook his head firmly as his blond hair bobbed with his movements. “I’m visiting a guest. Would you be so kind as to ring Evelyn Hammond’s room please?”

“Hmmm, Hammond, Hammond…” Sasha mused absently while keying the name into her computer. “Oh, I’m sorry sir, but Ms. Hammond checked out yesterday morning after breakfast.”

“Checked out?” The gentleman seemed taken aback. Sasha had seen this sort of thing before: a lover scorned.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. It was odd too because the Ministry of the Interior had paid for her stay, in advance, through the end of the week.”

A curious expression crossed the gentleman’s face and his shoulders slumped slightly. He tapped his lips with an ivory white finger, so impossibly smooth that Sasha caught herself daydreaming about what those fingers would feel like on her own skin. She shook her head in order to collect herself; the gentleman did not seem to notice. He turned to her again, concern painting his features.

“Did she leave a forwarding number, miss…”

“It’s Sasha.” She blurted.

“Sasha.” He smiled again as her knees went watery at the sound of her name. “A forwarding number?”

“Umm, no sir. But I remember her…”

His eyes widened at this and he smiled for the third time. _What a smile!_ , she thought, _a little crooked, but just dynamite!_ The gentleman leaned slightly across the reception counter, as if he was casually chatting with an old friend. _As if anyone could act casually dressed like THAT! He’s like an actor in one of those old movies – yes! The one about the secret agent with a license to kill…_ Sasha melted herself a little bit closer to him as she offered up the only thing that she had for him.

“What do you remember, Sasha?” His mouth luxuriated over the syllables of her name.

“A pretty lady. Pregnant. She checked out quickly but she wasn’t agitated. I remember because we chatted briefly while she waited for her bags to be brought down…”

“Hmm, pretty, yes. So what did _two_ such pretty ladies find to talk about?”

 _Oh, he’s good_ , Sasha thought. It suddenly occurred to her that he might be with the police, and she froze. The moment passed and she realized with relief, that no metro cop would be caught in such a suit – it would cost six months wages to be sure. And no cop would charm a witness when badgering would do, and in less time to boot.

“She asked for a cab and I asked if she would like to partake of our complimentary airport shuttle service - she was an excellent tipper, you see…” Sasha whispered knowingly and the gentleman made an interested noise in his throat. “Anyway, she declined saying that she wasn’t going home, she was going to stay with an old friend in town.”

“An old friend?”

“Yes,” Sasha used the moment to her own advantage “A _good_ old friend. Sounded like she was speaking of a man…”

Much to her chagrin, the gentleman seemed very pleased by the news and smiled broadly. He straightened and unexpectedly clasped Sasha’s hand in his. He raised it to his lips quickly and gave it a small peck before releasing it.

“Thank you, fair Sasha. I have enjoyed our conversation.” A happy warmth coloured his voice that made Sasha melt inwardly. “Have a fine day, my dear.”

The gentleman turned to leave and Sasha spoke quickly.

“Now that your wayward friend has been found, in a manner of speaking, perhaps you would care for a celebratory drink in our salon? We have some of the finest whiskies available in all of England…” She edged along the desk until she was closer to him, practically bubbling over with hope.

The gentleman turned his head slowly and smiled in a way that seemed almost shy. His shoulders turned and his suit jacket clung to the sharp angles of his chest as if it were a second skin. He raised his left hand and smiled as he wiggled a gold ring with two roses entwined on it perched on his third finger.

“Thank you for the offer, my dear, but no.” He nodded in deference, shaking his golden hair forward onto his brow, and then was gone.

Sasha huffed loudly and plopped her chin down into her palm once again. Nothing interesting ever happened to her, she thought glumly.

\----------------------------------------------------

The answering service clicked in on the Briar House number and Evey sighed as she thought about what message to leave.

“Hi, it’s me. Where _are_ you? I’ve checked out of the hotel, so call me on the sat phone, okay? I miss you…” She hung up and threw the satellite phone down on the bed in frustration.

The _only_ place that got any kind of phone reception in the Shadow Gallery was _his_ room. Who knows why – the whole place was built like a bunker, there should not have been any reception whatsoever. And, of course, the Gallery did not have a landline. She had not been back since the 5th and it felt surreal to be underground once again nearly a decade after the fact. Even during her stay here, she had spent almost no time in this room and she felt strangely intimidated by it, as though the shade of V would appear at the threshold at any moment and demand to know what she was doing there.

The Gallery was hers, willed to her by Charlie. V himself was hers, in a way, though the exact psychological composition of her husband at the moment confused her greatly. She had every right to be there, and yet she felt as if she was trespassing most egregiously. She stood at the foot of V’s bed and scanned the room. It was immaculate – no doubt Charlie had cleaned it during his recovery from… death. Antique furnishings, oriental carpets, piles of books, works of art – then Evey’s heart stopped. V stood in the corner shadows of the room staring at her.

“Oh God!” She yelled, clutching her swollen belly to steady herself.

V remained inert. Evey edged her way closer to him yet he remained unmoved, eyes watching her wherever she went. Slowly, hesitantly Evey approached him in the shadowed alcove. Her hand stretched out before her, shaking, she felt the coolness of his mask under her fingers. Still, maddeningly, he said nothing. Her hand slid down his face and onto his doublet, then she pulled away laughing at her own foolishness.

“A mannequin. God dammit.” She muttered.

“I had no idea that you feared me so.”

The voice came from behind her and across the room. She swung around to see a tall blond man leaning casually against the doorjamb. For an instant, Evey’s heart leapt into her throat at the sight of the blond-haired, blue-eyed stranger that had compromised her most private sanctuary, and her biggest secret. Then, breath and sense returned followed by anger.

“What the hell is wrong with you, sneaking up on a pregnant woman like that?! Have you lost what remains for your mind, Charlie?” She rubbed her belly once again and tried to calm the irregular beating of her heart. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, woman.” He straightened and walked across the room towards her, looking for all the world like a knife dressed in Armani. “I went to the Royalton and they told me that you had checked out _yesterday_! What have you been up to?”

Without waiting for her answer, he swept her into his arms and held her close. Kissing the top of her head, he smoothed out a patch of unruly curls along her neckline as he felt the slowing beat of her heart against him.

“I’m sorry that I frightened you.” He whispered. “Then and now.”

Evey sighed into his chest inhaling the faint hint of his cologne as she did so. She allowed herself to lean heavily against him and delight in the feel of him once again. It had only been a few days, but she was shocked at how much she had missed him in such a brief period. _It’s a good thing that he loves me_ , she thought, _because he’s ruined me for anyone else_.

“Was I really so ferocious then?” He asked leaning backwards to see her face.

“No. Not ferocious, but unknowable, unreadable. I think that you liked it that way – it was safer. You enjoyed keeping me off balance.”

“I was in love, Evey. I was scared to death of you.” He swept a curl behind her ear. “I wanted you closer but I had no idea that _that_ was a possibility for me.”

“You loved me _then_?” Her voice held a note of incredulity.  
“I loved you the moment that you watched the Old Bailey crumble. You had such a look of terror and fascination on your face. If you had felt my heart pounding when you maced Dominic at the BTN! Oh, I should have known that I was done for then…” He laughed softly and squeezed her closer.

She leaned back into him in amazement.

“Sometimes I don’t know what to make of you…” She murmured. “What are you doing here? Is everything alright?”

“I had a dream and I had to come see you.”

“Ummm, say again?” Evey looked baffled.

He smiled and led her to the edge of the bed, forcing her to sit. Then, he kneeled before her and removed her shoes, beginning to massage her soles even before she realized that her feet ached. 

“I had a dream. In it Clare told me that I might lose you if I did not try harder to make our current situation work. I concluded that I have been an ass and went to the hotel to find you… to tell you…”

“Who’s Clare?” Evey asked, offering up her other foot to him.

“Our daughter.” He replied matter-of-factly.

“Reeeeeaaaaally…” Evey eyed him suspiciously. “What is she like?”

“She likes Shakespeare and zerberts. She looks amazingly like you, except shorter.”

“Shorter?”

“Well, yes – she’s only 4 – I’m sure that she’ll grow more…”

“Wait a second!” Evey waved a finger in front of him. “Charlie, are you telling me that you took marital advice from our unborn, Shakespeare-reading 4 year old daughter whom you met in a _dream_? Do you have any idea how cracked that sounds?!”

“A little.” He smiled at her and lightly ran the tips of his fingers upward along her bare calf. “I’m insane, dear, not stupid.”

“Oh, well that’s reassuring.” She said dryly. “But I don’t understand, Charlie – you _told_ me to go see Eric and that’s exactly what I’m doing! I wasn’t leaving you. I would’ve been back by the weekend…”

“It’s not that, my love.” He lowered his head from her gaze and stared at his knees instead. “Ever since I attacked you, I’ve had… doubts about us…”

Evey reached for his face and raised his chin to look at her. Her eyes were filled with dread at his words.

“What do you mean?” She whispered. “Don’t you do this to us, Charlie! Don’t you dare leave me now…”

He grabbed up her hands and pressed them to his lips. Then he grabbed her head and drew her to him for a deep kiss. When he released her, he spoke quickly and breathlessly.

“I’m not! I won’t! You’re _mine_ \- both you and Clare, and I intend to collect on all of the happiness that is owed to me for my ruined life. No infirmity, no opportunity will stand between me and my family – do you understand?”

Evey shook her head in shock, small tears spilling down her cheeks. Charlie took a deep breath and tried again.

“I will find a way through this latest ‘side effect’ of my treatment – I will not allow it to become a wedge between you and I. I know that you are searching for Sidney - ”

Evey opened her mouth to respond but he shushed her and began to stroke her legs again.

“I am not upset. I think that if there is anyone who can provide insight into my condition, it is Andrea Susan’s daughter. And even if her prognosis is grim, I’m living everyday with you – and with Clare – I’m living every single remaining moment fully until I end.”

“Charlie…” Evey whispered and leaned her forehead on his shoulder as she cried softly.

He hated seeing her cry and it was not what he had intended for this moment. He shook off the doubt making a knot in his stomach and pushed her back with one hand. He had a plan, and now he had to make her believe it.

“No. I’m not finished yet…” His voice was firm yet hopeful. “As for Eric and his Prime Minister gambit – has he asked you yet?”

“Yes, today in fact. I told him that I needed some time to think it over – I shall have to tell him soon.” Evey’s voice hitched in her throat but Charlie could see that she was calming down as she spoke.

“Call him up and tell him you’ll do it – unless, you don’t want the position…”

“Of course I want the position, but how, Charlie? We’re about to have a baby and I’d have to live in London. What about us? What about ‘living every moment fully’?”

Charlie rocked back on his heels into an expectant crouch and wiped away the tracks of her tears with his thumb. A crafty demon’s smile spread slowly across his face.

“You hire a personal assistant, a private secretary – whatever. You hire _me_.” His eyes lit up with possibility. “We’ll buy a house here, something with a bit of privacy and room for Clare. We ask Sera to come and help out when the baby arrives – we can trust her absolutely and she’s almost as excited about the baby as we are.”

He clasped her hand eagerly in his and squeezed harder than he intended. She did not flinch. Her growing physical strength steeled her against such things now, and he belated realized it with a certain amount of unspoken pride.

“I’ll be at your side by day as your assistant, and at night as your husband.”

Evey shook her head to stop the dizziness. Could it work? Would anyone _believe_ their new arrangement? She wanted everything – her family and her work – more than she could express but it had always seemed impossible. Now, Charlie offered her everything, but she was almost afraid to hope.

“But Charlie, you’re supposed to be dead. Everyone in Eric’s office knows your face…”

Charlie pointed to his face and flourished his hands, both still swathed in convincingly smooth latex.

“Do I look like Charlie now? Would anyone suspect me?” He said.

“Do you know what you’re suggesting? Every public moment you would have to be disguised. You would have to deny who you are, deny what we mean to one another. You would only be free to be yourself at night…”

“Hmmm, sounds familiar, doesn’t it?” He chuckled, and then shook his head. “I’ve made my decision about this and I can live with it if you can. To me, the benefits are worth the restrictions.”

He smiled broadly – a dazzling, crooked smile – and kissed her gently on both cheeks as he continued to run his fingers up and down her legs. She saw the steel behind his eyes and knew that he understood what he was proposing.

“Perhaps, in time, you could develop a ‘crush’ on your personal assistant – throw an old dog a bone, so to speak?” He waggled his fake eyebrows ludely making Evey laugh.

“I’m sure that they’ll be many late night dictation sessions that you’ll have to attend…” She giggled.

“Oh, I _love_ being dictated to…” He growled and leaned forward to nibble her earlobe. “Are we agreed then? Do we have a plan that suits us both?”

“If you can live with it, so can I.” She murmured as his hands crept under her skirt and along her thighs.

“It won’t be such a public life – you’ll be a staffer, not a politician – who will look too closely into our lives?” Charlie abandoned her earlobe and whisked along her jaw line instead.

“Eric might.”

“Yes, he’ll be the real test. If I can fool him, we’ll be fine. I’ll have to make a near flawless prosthetic…” He husked.

“Speaking of which,” Evey pulled away from his attentions, flushed but content. “Please remove your face – it’s like I’m making out with some stranger who happens to sound like you. What possessed you to go blond, anyway?”

Charlie shrugged as he carefully began to pull away the latex mask from his face.

“I thought that I’d change up ‘my look’ a bit – you don’t like it?”

“I just can’t picture you blond – it’s always dark hair in my mind. I guess you can blame Guy Fawkes for that.” Evey helped remove the extra adhesive still clinging to his face. She imagined that she would get very good at it over time if their deception worked.

Charlie began to pull the latex from his hands and Evey looked down and saw his gold wedding band twinkling at her. She rubbed its surface with her thumb.

“You’ll have to stop wearing that…” She said softly.

“I’ll never stop wearing it.” He said after a moment of thought. “It’ll always be on my person somewhere: in a pocket, around my neck on a chain – somewhere.”

She leaned forward and kissed him. He cradled the back of her head and drew her closer so that she was just barely sitting on the edge of the mattress. His spare hand skimmed up her calf and around her thigh, squeezing gently as he went. Evey made a low moan and clasped his neck in her hands. He rose up and pushed her back along the mattress edge, leaning over her body in a possessive and knowing fashion. She pulled away from his searching lips and gasped.

“Not here!”

“Why ever not?” He breathed.

“Because…” Evey was fighting with her own desires. “It’s _his_ room!”

“You mean _my_ room, don’t you?” He pulled back from her with a quizzical look on his face.

Evey stared at him intently. She was looking for V in him, he could tell. For her, personalities had divisions; walls that keep people separate and definable. The fact that he was several men in one, and that these men blended seamlessly into one another, confused her profoundly. Ire rose up in him momentarily until he remembered that _he_ was the unusual element in this equation – she was just trying to cope with it, and trying very, very hard. 

“Though I never had you here, my love, don’t think that you weren’t with me – lying beside me here – every night. It is my home, my bed and you are my wife. It is right that you are here.” He took a breath in order to calm the irritation within him that she _still_ did not understand who he was. “I noticed that your things were unpacked in your old room…”

Evey continued to stare and then blushed and looked away from him.

“It wasn’t right. He… you never invited me here. You were… a different man than you are now.”

“Yes,” he sighed as he rolled away from her and braced himself on an elbow. “I was different in that I was ruled by different priorities than I am now. But I’m still the same man, and I am inviting you to my bed – I was too shy to do so then.”

“Was it shyness?” Evey seemed shocked.

“Yes, but also there was the vendetta. I couldn’t ask you to be with me knowing what I was planning. And after your imprisonment, I assumed that you would sooner eat glass than take to my bed…”

“Well, you were right _and_ wrong about that, weren’t you?”

“I was?” Charlie sat up abruptly.

“Yes.” Evey struggled to brace herself upright on her elbows. “When you released me and revealed yourself I would’ve happily killed you for your barbarous actions. Don’t think for an instant that I don’t recall what your hands have done to me…”

Charlie watched as her eyes narrowed, and he looked at his hands wondering how she could let him touch her if she truly felt that way.

“But, then how…” He whispered, feeling himself blush with shame under his scars.

“After I left you, I came to understand _why_ you did it, and I saw how I had benefited from the strength that the experience gave me. There’s no way the frightened girl that you met in that alley could have withstood everything that I have up to this point _without_ your help. I guess that I was angry with you because I had affection for you then, and you had treated me like a cog in your grand scheme. I had no idea that you felt anything for me…until the 5th.”

They both fell silent. Charlie traced patterns on the bedspread while Evey watched his face for a reaction.

“I could never do that again, Eve.” He whispered finally.

“Yes, you could – if it was the only option left to you. And I love you for that: that strength.” She smiled and grasped his arm, squeezing it tightly. “I hope that some of that strength is mine now – perhaps Clare will have it too…”

Charlie reached out and caressed her belly, smiling shyly. 

“Who would have guessed that it would come to this?”

“Yes.” She covered his hand with hers. “It does make our relationship seem all the more… miraculous, doesn’t it?”

He nodded and leaned in for a kiss, slowly bending her back down over the bedspread. He braced himself over her – mindful of her belly – and brought himself close enough that she could feel his breath caress her cheekbones and her forehead.

“You still haven’t told me why you came here, Evey?” He whispered gently, skirting the hollow of her neck with his fingertips that sent shudders through her. “If the Gallery holds such mixed memories for you, why leave the hotel?”

Evey’s face flirted with a host of conflicting emotions that Charlie found difficult to assess. She blushed and squirmed slightly and he realized that she was embarrassed about the answer that she would give him. He bent down and lightly brushed her forehead in a kiss and then murmured to her.

“Just tell me, darling, no matter how awkward it is…”

Evey sighed in exhaustion underneath him.

“Ever since you came back to me, I get… fearful whenever we’re apart. It’s become worse now that I’m made more aware, _daily_ ,” she patted her belly “of what’s at risk if I lose you. It’s foolish and embarrassing but I can’t seem to help it – I thought myself stronger than this, and know that I should be for the baby’s sake…”

She tried to roll away from him, on her side, but his body remained close and would not permit the movement.

“I came here to talk to you.” Evey sighed again as Charlie cocked what would have been an eyebrow at her, if he still possessed them. “Realizing that I cannot be apart from you, I came here to decide how I would answer Eric’s offer, and how I would live with that answer. Even though you weren’t here, the Gallery has always felt like a safe place for me, and it was the first place that I knew of where truthful conversation was encouraged. It seemed the right place to seek out answers.”

Evey looked away from him and focused on a point in the distance of her own memories.

“I guess that I was trying to conjure up the ghosts of V and Evey from long ago, to help me here – now.”

Charlie waited a long time before responding. He saw her looking into her past and did not feel the urge to disturb her – the Gallery could do that. As much as he loved it, and as safe as it made him feel as well, it was part of his past and had little meaning to his future. To cling to it was to hold fast a dream that had grown stale. He knew that whatever lay ahead for him and his family, lay in the world above not underneath curled together for survival like hunted vermin. He hoped that she knew it too.

He rose from the bed suddenly and removed his jacket, abandoning it on a Louis XIV chair in the corner of the room. He went to a large cedar wardrobe and rummaged through its contents while absently unbuttoning his dress shirt. He felt Evey’s eyes on him as he moved, like warm physical points of contact, and he slowed his movements slightly as a result. Finding what he was searching for, he closed the wardrobe and left his shirt and socks on the chair as well, wandering closer to the bed bare-chested in dress pants. He raised his left hand and showed her an old gray linen shirt of V’s.

“Come here, Evey. You’re exhausted – slip into something less restrictive.” His voice was soft and warm. “This shirt should fit over you and the little one nicely.”

Evey smiled in tired gratitude. She moved to the edge of the bed closest to him and allowed him to undress her and drape her in his shirt. It was at once a trusting and intimate gesture: giving him access to her and unspoken dominion over that which we all guard most carefully. She breathed in deeply and smelled the lingering hints of sandalwood and leather that always reminded her of V. The blouse was loose and billowy, and gaped open considerably at the neck, but she instantly felt more comfortable.

“Better?” He asked.

“Yes.” She smiled up at him.

Without a word, he bent and scooped her up into his chest as he carried her back to the head of the bed. He gently deposited her under the sheets, her naked legs slicing luxuriously across the crisp linen, and tucked a blanket around her. Then, he walked away, seeing to his discarded clothes with exaggerated torpidity. Evey’s eyes followed him, watching the elongated grace of his fingers, his shoulders and his thighs working simply and without care. Feeling her gaze on him once again, he turned from the wardrobe and walked to a spot in the room that afforded the best light and slowly unbuckled his belt without acknowledging her. A subtle smile crinkled the far side of his mouth, out of her view, as he removed the belt and allowed his unzipped pants to slide down his legs into a wrinkle heap at his ankles. Was it merely imagination or did he _feel_ her gaze sharpen as he casually fussed with his sleepwear, affording her a glimpse of his long, flat muscles tightly rippling under his scarred surface? Surely not, what with the late stage of her pregnancy and her considerable worries for their immediate future, sex would be the last thing on her mind.

Charlie puffed out a regretful breath, slipped into his cotton sleeping pants and turned towards the bed, tying the drawstring waist as he went to join his wife. It was early summer, but the Gallery clung to its preternatural chill that defied the laws of the seasons. Dampness crept in through the flagstones underfoot and the limestone walls as if one was permanently holding siege against the grey and the wet that so typified London life. Evey was curled up under the blanket as if it was already autumn and she needed the extra warmth. She turned on her side as he reached the bed and he slid in behind her, spooning up reassuringly into the small of her back. The warmth of his body spread through her like a shot, and she tingled and shivered as he absently rubbed her arm and shoulder.

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” He murmured, referring to her previous misgivings about ‘his’ room.

Evey mumbled under his hands as he felt her relax further into his body. In spite of what he had said earlier, it was quite an experience, even now, to be in _this_ bed next to her. He had often fantasized that she was there but, having never felt her near in this setting, his body was fused with the nervous energy of a new and oft-hoped-for experience. Something within him stretched and poked at his surface urgently, wanting out – just _wanting_. After what she had said to him about V, he could not tell her so and certainly would not dream of suggesting anything given how obviously tired she seemed. His body, however, was rapidly betraying his noble intentions and so he shifted slightly and focused on his massage instead.

Evey mumbled again and moved backwards to regain his body’s warmth. Charlie once more shifted to avoid an unsavory contact and whispered gently into her hair, willing her to sleep. She tried to move closer to him and turned to half face him when he sidestepped her efforts.

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing, love. Try to sleep.” He replied.

“You’re so warm – it’s delicious. I just want more.”

“My arms will keep you warm, unless you require another blanket?”

“I don’t want a blanket or just your arms, I want all of you…” She insisted.

“Evey…”

She scooted backwards quickly and pressed solidly against the flat planes of his thighs, stomach, chest, and unmistakable erection. Charlie sighed and squirmed slightly.

“Sorry.”

“Why?” Evey giggled. “Did you not invite me here for that purpose?”

“Yes. I mean, no… not specifically. I invited you because it is your rightful place and you should not feel any hesitation in being here. You are tired, Evey, and carry many concerns on your shoulders just now. Given the strange memories that lurk for you here, I do not have any _expectations_ despite how alluring you are to me right now.”

Evey turned in his arms to face him, a perplexed look on her face.

“Alluring?” She cocked an eyebrow. “Charlie, I’m 7 months pregnant – I’m about as attractive as a bloated leech. Surely it hasn’t escaped your attention that I have a small dump truck parked on my bladder, regardless of how strong your Gallery sex fantasies may be.”

“Oh, that’s where you are mistaken, my love. Seeing you in this state heightens my arousal considerably.” He flashed her a devilish smile. “There’s something… primal - feral maybe – about seeing you grow round and full this way. As if, all at once, you are the embodiment of fecundity and passion.”

His breath came in fast gasps as his smile spread and radiated throughout his body. He allowed his hands to wander over her curves and under the shirt she wore as if illustrating the point that he was making.

“It’s like I’ve stamped you somehow – claimed you in the most obvious way, but _seeing_ that claim just makes me want to claim you again and again. I’ve never felt anything like it, as though I was an animal rather than a man.” He leaned into her neck and breathed out ragged and wantonly, trying to lose himself in the sense of touch and her smell alone. “I’m sorry, Evey. I had not intended on telling you this but you should know that you have never been more comely to me than you are now. Just seeing you, and knowing that you are mine, moves me in a most distracting way…”

Evey smiled under the glow of such unexpected praise. She pushed herself more firmly into his hands, feeling the evidence of his theory pushing back on her, and brushed her lips across his ear.

“Well, then?” She whispered.

“No, Evey.” He pulled back from her, trying to disentangle himself from her limbs. “I did not tell you that as foreplay, darling… You are exhausted, I can see that. I shall not impose upon you. Please, try and get some sleep. I’ll… take care of _this_ myself, if it persists…”

“Nonsense!” Evey threw back her head and laughed out loud. “ _Take care of it yourself_ , indeed! There shall be no need for that, if I have any say in the matter…”

She quickly edged down the front of his chest, insinuating herself under the blankets and between his legs heading further south. 

“Evey!”

Before he could mount much of a protest she had shucked him of his pants and had set about taking care of his marital needs with urgency. Her mouth descended on him with shocking warmth and considerable skill. He tried, half-heartedly, to push her away but it was just a matter of moments before his arousal bloomed into an undeniable need that he could not ignore without causing himself discomfort. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to wave after wave of throbbing need, completely relinquishing control to her. Her belly lay between his twitching calves as her hands and tongue laved and coaxed and teased and denied his climax by turns. The thought of having his beautiful, pregnant wife – his Evey – there, in his bed for the first time, tending to him was enough to send him into orbit; spinning wildly and helplessly under her gravitational pull. When he came, it was loud, unrestrained and effusive, his whole body drained and pulsating like a dying celestial body. Evey returned to him, burrowing into his heaving and superheated chest.

“Well, then?” She asked again with the same mirth in her voice.

His mind was completely blank. He fought to stave off unconsciousness and stupidity long enough to articulate his feelings, but in the end knew that he was bound to fail miserably.

“I adore you.” He said finally and rather dumbly. “You make everything… so much _more_.”

Evey laughed softly and wove herself into his arms and legs, at last allowing her eyes to close.

“Good. Now, keep me warm and don’t fidget – I’m absolutely exhausted.”

Charlie did not hear her: he was already asleep. But, he held her wrapped around him in any case, assuring her of a long, warm rest.


	26. New Arrivals

Charlie stood in the foyer of Eric’s office resplendent in his new incarnation: James MacDiarmid. Evey’s announcement of her new hire had met with approval but now Eric wanted to meet him in the flesh, so to speak, and so on their last day in the office before Evey’s maternity leave Eric had asked for a few minutes of Mr. MacDiarmid’s time. 

It was strange being back in the Ministry of the Interior again, and stranger still to pretend that he did not know his way around or any of the staff there. When he reached Eric’s office he was surprised to see Marjorie sitting at the secretary’s desk, and felt more than a little awkward when she gave him an appreciative once-over knowing that she and Eric were involved.

“He’s a little behind today, Mr. MacDiarmid. Can you wait a few minutes?”

“It’s Mac – please call me Mac.” He bowed slightly. “Evey and I are planning to drive up to Briar House today but a little delay shouldn’t set us back too badly.”

He smiled and wrinkled his nose in a gesture of acquiescence while trying on a hint of the North in his accent. Marjorie gave a delighted little giggle and then rose from behind the desk and took his outstretched hand.

“Nice to meet you, Mac. I’m Marjorie. Mr. Fitch’s secretary is off with the flu today. I’ll just pop my head in and give him a buzz, shall I? Can’t have you leaving too late, after all.”

Marjorie left him alone in the foyer and he took the opportunity to give his disguise one last appraisal in the glass of a picture frame. The latex mask was the best that he had ever created, and it would have to be in order to hold up to the daily scrutiny of former friends and associates. Charlie wondered whether it would convince Eric who saw everyone through cop’s eyes trained to pick up on inconsistencies. He sighed as he smoothed the seams along his jaw line. The skin tone was darker than was usually seen in the British Isles – almost Mediterranean – but the darker colour helped to hide the mask seams. He had also chosen dark hair, in deference to Evey’s opinion, and wore it long and swept back from his face and forehead. Long hair was not much in fashion these days, but it too helped hide the mask seams and ensured that he would not have to create a latex mask to wrap around his neck. Since he had to spend a significant amount of time in this disguise, he wanted it to be as simple and comfortable as possible. Charlie was concerned about standing out: given his new appearance, considerable height and physical fitness it was bound to be an issue. Yet, he comforted himself with the thought that he could not possibly be any more noticeable than he had been as Evey’s scarred, silver-eyed bodyguard. 

Charlie adjusted his tie and fussed with his vest. He had an affection for 3-piece suits (also not in fashion at the moment) and had decided that ‘Mac’ was just the sort of guy to pull them off. He smiled crookedly at the trim, custom-tailored suit that outlined his silhouette crisply in pinstriped navy: Mac was going to be a dandy. With one last nod, he pushed his eye glasses along the bridge of his nose and up to shield the blue contacts that shaded his silver gaze. The demure black rectangular frames were a little nod to Clark Kent, and an inside joke between he and Evey.

“Reinventing yourself as a superhero?” She had asked as she watched him dress that morning.

“No. I’m reinventing myself as ‘normal’…”

She had laughed heartily at his expense.

Charlie turned at the sound of Eric’s office door opening. Marjorie stood in the doorway beaming.

“He’s ready. Go right on in, Mac.”

“Thanks, Marjorie. It was a pleasure meeting you.” He took her hand and pecked it lightly.

Eric stood up behind his desk as Charlie entered and waved towards a chair.

“Morning, Mr. MacDiarmid. Sorry for the wait – I never was very punctual. Please sit.”

“It’s no bother, and please, call me Mac.” Charlie sat and crossed his long legs with a swish of tailored silk.

Eric sat, smiled and entered into casual, perfunctory conversation about the office and Mac’s new position. They touched on a few concerns for the impending election, which had not been announced but was a foregone conclusion. Eric asked after Mac’s family in the North, which Charlie had invented in order to make a plausible link for he and Evey to have met and subsequently be hired. The conversation was an easy back and forth, but Charlie knew Eric’s tactics well and knew that he was trying to feel out Mac’s trustworthiness. Eric was trying to figure out what he could safely tell Mac about the strange shoes that he was filling.

“Mac, I’ve got to honest with you, I don’t usually vet my underlings’ hires – I don’t have the time or the interest – but Evey is special.” Eric leaned back in his leather chair and tented his fingers.

“I see.” Said Charlie cautiously. “I was wondering why we were having this meeting. I understand that you are her boss, but I work for _her_.”

“You speak your mind very decidedly, I must say. It must be a Northern trait…” Eric chuckled. “What do you know about Evey? About her past, I mean?”

“She has told me what I need to know: she played a role in the revolution along with you, she has worked for you ever since. She also told me that she was married and that her husband died last year. It will be hard raising her child without him, I think…”

“She did more than play a role in the revolution,” Eric sighed heavily and looked very tired suddenly. “She knew Codename V. She helped him blow up Parliament.”

Charlie remained very still.

“What I tell you now, I tell you in strictest confidence, Mac. She would not approve of me telling tales out of school, but you need to know whom you are dealing with: why she is who she is and why she is so precious. I expect you to take care of her as if she were family, because she is part of _my family_ and I will be the next Prime Minister of this country. You don’t want to cross me. We have significant work to do and I need her by my side to do it, understood?”

“Your clarity is inescapable, sir.” Charlie responded with the appropriate amount of trepidation.

“Excellent, I’m glad that we are speaking the same language.” Eric fixed Charlie with a sharp look. “She lived with V for a year and over that period fell in love with him. His death left her inconsolable but she decided to continue his work through politics – by helping me in my political aspirations. Few people in this country have the passion that she carries to change things, to set things right, and no one has her perspective on where this country has been and where it should be going. If people knew her history with V, they would either make her a saint or drag her into the street for a beating – no one must know this!”

“Yes, I agree.” Said Charlie.

“In time, Evey befriended and hired her neighbor, Charlie – the man that you are replacing, at least in the work sense…” Eric’s forehead furrowed. “It took her a long time but eventually she saw him for who he truly was and she married him.”

“Saw him for who he truly was?”

“He was V.” Eric whispered.

Charlie was stunned, which was luckily an appropriate action for Mac at that exact moment. Eric closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, making the furrows deeper.

“But, how?” 

“The authorities never found V’s body after the 5th, and Evey had never seen him unmasked. It would have been easy for him to slip back into her life without linking her to him as a terrorist. I must admit that I have no hard evidence to back this up, just my gut instincts as a cop.”

“How’s that?”

“Charlie cared for her deeply from the get-go. They almost finished each other’s sentences. He was overly protective, and he was very possessive about the sanctity of their shared home life. It was as if he had known her before. Given his murky past and sudden appearance at her side being helpful in _exactly_ the way that she needed him to be, I just made an intuitive leap.”

“Yet you never said anything to anyone about it?”

“You have to understand the depth of her loss after the 5th…and the strength of feeling that emanated from him when he was around her: it was as compelling as gravity. They were made for each other. I, myself, have never experienced that. Who was I to stop it?”

Eric fell silent and pensive. Charlie sat staring at him in disbelief. How could he have kept his suspicions to himself for so long? And why? Charlie wondered if Eric could see through him right now as well. He would certainly never underestimate Eric Finch ever again.

“Sir, why are you _really_ telling me all of this?” Charlie leaned forward in his chair and stared at Eric, challenging him to see through the disguise.

“Mac, you seem like a solid fellow.” Eric’s eyes got glassy suddenly. “Evey’s the closest thing that I’ll ever have to a daughter of my own, and she’s been through so much pain, so much that I wish that I could have borne for her. I need you to promise me that you’ll look after her with the same care that Charlie did. I need you to understand that this isn’t just a job – it’s a commitment. If you make this commitment – to her, to me – I will deny you nothing that is within my power to give.”

He stared back at Charlie intensely. Then he leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers once more.

“I doubt that she’ll ever love again, and who can blame her. Everything that she has will go into that baby. All I can give her is the shelter that my position affords, and a sense of purpose again through our work. I ask you to help me give her these things, Mac.”

Eric stood up and held out his hand towards Charlie.

“So, tell me now: are you game, man?”

Charlie rose slowly from his chair and took at step towards the desk. He clasped Eric’s hand in his and shook it firmly. The gravity of his voice came from the very core of him.

“Without reservation, sir – I’m your man. She could have no better care save her husband.”

Eric smiled and pumped Charlie’s hand in glowing recognition of one who meets a person of similar base components. The beginnings of a beautiful friendship, just like that famous movie quote…

“Good man, good man. Call me Eric.”

“Okay, Eric.” Charlie murmured. “I hate to do this, but I’m supposed to drive Evey to Briar House this afternoon, and if we don’t make a start now, we won’t get there before dark. She doesn’t have tremendous energy reserves at the moment…”

“Yes. I do wish that she’d stay and have the baby here, in a London hospital…”

“Considering what you just told me, it makes sense that she would want to have _their_ child in that house…” Charlie was assailed by memories of Evey. He wanted to be on the road with her at once.

“Yes, it does.” Eric said quietly. “Off you go then. Please call and let me know when the baby arrives.”

“You’ll be the first to know, I promise.” Charlie leapt from the chair and flashed Eric a showy smile. “It was a genuine pleasure to meet you, Eric.”

“You too, Mac.” Eric sat down heavily into his office chair and swiveled it towards the large window behind him.

“Mac?”

“Yes?” Charlie turned back at the door to the foyer.

“Love that suit, man.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Charlie returned to Evey’s office, now more spacious and impressive given her new importance to Eric’s impending election bid. She was packing her laptop and some file folders into a bankers box on her desk. She was due within the next week and was the size of a small yacht mounted on toothpicks. Charlie clicked his tongue at her and took over packing duties.

“Why couldn’t you wait and let me do this?” He chided.

“They’re files, not bowling balls…” She mumbled irritably.

“How was the meeting with Eric?” Evey’s voice was controlled but her eyes were concerned.

Charlie paused in his packing and stared off into the distance for a long moment. Then he turned and looked down at her with his new face. It was still so odd to see it: the form and the mannerisms of her husband swathed in the trappings of a stranger. It was like he had wallpapered a new persona over himself – though, at least she had the consolation that he was no longer blonde.

“He loves you very much, you know.” Charlie said quietly and with a new understanding.

“Oh.” Evey said.

She turned away from Charlie and smiled with relief. The two men that she loved the most had reached some kind of mutual ground together. She felt elated and feather-light, as if a large weight had been removed from her.

“Come on.” She said to Charlie over her shoulder. “We should get on the road before it gets too late in the day.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“I forbid it!” Charlie growled.

“You WHAT? I beg your bloody pardon – what did you just say to me?” Evey was beet red, sweating and mad as hell.

“You heard me!” Charlie put his hands on his hips but inwardly wavered, knowing Evey’s ferocious temper was only being exacerbated by the heat. “You can’t even climb the stairs without getting winded – you are not going across the river…”

“I believe that England is _still_ a democracy! If I want to escape this heat under a tree down by the river, that’s exactly what I’ll do!” She was yelling quite impressively now.

“Evey, be reasonable – you’re 2 weeks overdue! What happens if you go into labor down there and no one can get to you?” Charlie was sweating too, a rare occurrence for someone with so much scar tissue.

“So, you just expect me to sit here and melt patiently while waiting for the little darling to make an appearance?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I expect you to do. I will do it also – with you. Now, just let me get the ice water and the fan, and I promise that I’ll ease your discomfort somewhat, okay?”

Evey crossed her arms across her immense belly and turned away from him without speaking, but at least she was not marching out the door. Charlie hustled out of the kitchen in search of pregnant wife appeasement materials, counting his blessings that she had not emasculated him during that particular conversation. It was early August and an unseasonable heat wave, by Northern standards, had descended upon them, making an already worried and irritable Evey, more worried and irritable. Sera had been prepared for her midwife duties since their arrival, and was on 24-hour standby, it seemed. However, when Evey was in one of her moods, Sera was conveniently absent as if she sensed it through some sort of female telepathy that Charlie currently wished he possessed. He hoped every day that Evey would go into labor, both in a desire to finally meet his daughter and a profound need to have Evey return to sense again.

Charlie returned to the kitchen with cooling tools in hand only to find it empty.

“Goddamn the stubbornness of that woman!” He mumbled.

 _And my continuing gullibility…_ , he added mentally as he strode out the greenhouse door to hunt for his wife.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

 

_Forbid me! The heat has addled his considerable brains…_

Evey sat under the drooping bows of a tree in the north field. It stood on the crest of a hill and caught the fleeting summer breeze as it swept around her and down towards the rill below. She loved this tree. It had a low, curved branch that could support her weight – well, her pre-pregnancy weight anyway – and she would come here to sit and think. She called it the Elephant Tree because of the branch, which looked very much like an ivory tusk. She could not go to her favorite spot by the edge of the rill because _he_ would no doubt be looking for her there. He was just being overprotective – it was not like she had suggested that she walk into town or something. If her contractions started, she was within shouting distance of the house.

The sun slowly climbed up and across the sky. Soon it had caught her under the tree bows and she began to sweat again. The breeze had all but evaporated, and she wondered idly how the Greek god Helios could have withstood the furnace of his task each day for all eternity. The thought made her sweat even more until at last, driven by a strange insanity for water, she slowly picked her way down the hillside to the river below the house. If Charlie had pursued her there, he had not hung around, and she found herself blissfully alone and already feeling cooler just by virtue of her proximity to water. In a moment of reflection, she regretted that he would be worrying about her, and vowed to make it up to him somehow.

“Just as soon as you pop out, little one.” She rubbed her belly, hoping that the little one would take pity on her and speed up its arrival a tad.

Evey’s sanctuary was in sight: on the opposite bank of the river was a drooping willow whose long branches trailed in the ceaseless eddies of the tide pool that bordered it. How many times had she come here and sat with her toes dipped in the water, imagining what it would be like just to exist as a colour. _What would it feel like to be green?_ The old bridge that crossed the rill was highly unsafe, and they had always just walked across a series of elevated stones in the river instead. Evey removed her shoes, hitched up her skirt and carefully balanced from one stone to the next, imagining what fits Charlie would have if he saw her now.

Despite the heat of the summer, the river was running high; high enough to wash over her bare feet as she hopped from stone to stone. The water was cold and immediately soothing, and she stood for a moment on a stone, eyes closed, feeling the water and the sun on her at once in joyful contrast to one another. Opening her eyes slowly, she saw that the still air was alive with movement. Midges hovered above the running river offering themselves as bait to the fish below the surface. Milkweed pods had opened and released their wandering seeds to the mercies of the breeze. Now, without one they lingered, almost in suspended animation, in the air before her, waiting for destiny to give them a push. In the sunlight thousands of motes, dust and other forms of invisible life took shape – she was truly not alone, but rather one large, bumbling being plowing through the chaos of life around her. She sighed contentedly.

A band of pain suddenly seized her abdomen and squeezed with incredible force, knocking the wind out of her. She grasped her belly with both hands and bent forward, trying carefully to avoid slipping off the rock. She tried to breathe through the pain and focus on where she was. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the pain ceased and faded away. She stood, half bent, in the middle of the river afraid to move. Was that a contraction or something else? Evey looked around to see if Charlie had returned to the riverside, or if Sera was in sight. She seemed to be alone, as she had wanted, and would have to rely on herself.

She turned unsteadily on the stone and looked back over the mossy rocks that she had traversed to reach this point in the river. The riverbank seemed impossibly far away. She straightened herself with only a little downwards ache in her belly and decided to make an attempt to get back onto solid ground. She made it to the next stone but the one beyond it was longer than a stride: she would have to hop to it. Another circle of pain squeezed her starting at her belly button and slicing around to her lower back. The squeezing tightened – stronger than last time – and a tremendous pull bloomed at the center of the pain. She gasped and cried out, dropping her shoes in the river and loosing her skirt down over her calves to be soaked by the water bubbling over the rocks beneath her. She felt a warm wetness break between her legs – she _had_ to get to the riverbank. Now.

The pain eased but not entirely, and Evey realized that she soon would not have a break between the pains. She had to make her move. _Something’s wrong. Labor is supposed to take hours – the pains are supposed to increase gradually…_ Evey hopped to the next stone in the river, her face creased in pain. When she landed, another wave assaulted her and she cried out again. Bending over to steady herself, her right foot slipped on some moss and she plunged into the river up to her mid-thighs. The water that had been cool on her feet chilled her thighs and splashed up against her distended belly, practically paralyzing her with shock. She gasped in her breath quickly and held herself steady against the current of the water. Her soaked skirt was swirling around her legs and trying to pull her downriver. Another contraction hit – each one was stronger than the last. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes. It was happening too quickly. She held back her fear and yelled up the hillside at the top of her lungs. _Someone hear me, please_.

“Charlie was right.” She said between gasps. “They’ll be no living with him after this…”

She cried out again and was immediately silenced by another furious squeeze. Evey held onto her belly and bent forward, nearly putting herself at right angles. A long curl of hair drifted lazily in the current in front of her vision.

“Careful what you wish for, right little one?” She whispered to her belly. “I wanted you out and now you’re coming, with a vengeance.”

“Evey!”

She looked up and saw Charlie barreling down the hillside at a reckless speed, his feet barely touching the ground as gravity and worry propelled him forward. He hit the water with a tremendous splash and stumbled as his legs adjusted to the new medium. He hopped into the middle of the river and scooped her up, carrying her easily to the riverbank.

“What are you DOING!” He yelled.

“The baby’s coming…my water broke…” 

Charlie yelled up the hill for Sera, whose face popped up over the garden gate almost immediately. Another powerful contraction hit Evey and she screamed for him to put her down. Charlie once again looked up the hill and saw Sera climbing down as fast as she could muster with her kit bag in hand.

“Alright. It’s alright, darling – Sera’s coming.” He brushed hair from her face as he lay her down in the long grass of the lower hill. “When did the contractions start?”

“A few minutes ago. They’re coming really quickly now.” She breathed through gritted teeth as another jolt of pain ripped through her. “Christ! This REALLY FUCKING HURTS!”

Charlie took her hand in his and tried not to wince as her grip set his knuckle joints popping. Sometimes he forgot that she had developed his enhanced strength, but he was absolutely certain that his right hand would not soon forget it. Sera appeared at his side silently as a shadow and promptly threw Evey’s skirt over her knees and spread her legs apart. She looked up quickly at Charlie and nodded towards Evey once, telling him to brace himself behind her. Charlie blanched.

“But, we can’t do this here!”

Sera slapped on a pair of sterile, latex gloves and arched an eyebrow at him that said, _oh yes we can and will!_ As if to emphasize the point, Evey let out another pointed howl of pain, and Charlie gave up on his ideas of birthing propriety and took up position behind his wife. He braced her on either side with his soggy, linen-clad legs as his shoes made strange squishing sounds under his feet. He was drenched from the waist down, which pretty much matched Evey’s condition. She refused to let go of his hand and he used the other to angle her head back against his chest and stroked her hair away from her forehead. Another contraction hit and Evey rocked forward out of his grip with surprising force. Sera looked up from her work and smiled briefly, giving them a thumbs up – apparently, it would be time to push soon.

It was all happening so quickly. If Evey had had time to think, she might have been fearful but she was too focused on the pain. Charlie, on the other hand, was terrified. Sudden flashes of losing both Evey and Clare at once zinged through his brain and he felt utterly helpless as Evey and Sera worked together to make his happiness come alive. For all of his strength and intelligence, he was thoroughly useless in this moment, his only _real_ contribution having been achieved 9 months earlier. He attempted to soothe Evey with words and his physical nearness, but as she started pushing, her howls became a jumble of obscenities, and he decided not to tempt her ire twice in one day. 

For all of the suddenness of Evey’s contractions, it took some time for the baby to make her way into the heated August afternoon. The sun was low in the sky before Evey gave one last yell and Sera appeared from between her legs, sweaty and beaming. Sera clipped the umbilicus and cleared the baby’s mouth allowing her to scream for the first time in the large, wide world. Charlie’s whole body sagged in spent tension at the sound – Clare had arrived at last. Sera wrapped Clare in a soft towel and handed her to her father, then returned to the care of her charge. Charlie looked down upon his wrinkled, screaming, slippery child in wonder: she was _his_. He had never even imagined that a moment like this would exist for him. She was the physical embodiment of his love, his new belief in life. It was like holding hope in one’s hands.

He looked over at Evey grinning like a village idiot, and saw her pale and sweaty in the long grass. His smile faded.

“I lost my shoes in the river…” She mumbled half consciously.

His head snapped around and looked at Sera. She popped up quickly with a stony look on her mute face and lifted up her gloved hands: they were covered in blood. As if they had choreographed their movements, Charlie handed Clare off to Sera and scooped Evey up as he started to race up the hill towards the house. Sera followed as quickly as she could, carrying the baby and her kit bag. 

“You see to Clare. I’ll prep the transfusion.” Charlie commanded over his shoulder unnecessarily.

His heart bounced around in his chest like a ping-pong ball but he kept his voice even and calm as he whispered into Evey’s hair.

“It’s alright, my angel. I’m going to take care of you. You’ll be right in no time…”

“Clare… where’s Clare?” She mumbled into his chest.

“She’s fine. Sera’s got her – she’s right here.”

“Is she…”

“She’s absolutely perfect, my love.” He gripped her tighter as he said it and swung through the garden gateway.

“Perfect….” Evey smiled before she blacked out into unconsciousness.

\----------------------------------------------------

Evey awoke in her bed, aching and exhausted. She looked around and saw the half empty blood bag whose flow snaked into her arm via I.V. tubing. She was so happy not to be experiencing pain anymore that it felt like some sort of chemically induced high to just merely lie there. The sun was setting and long shadows reshaped the room around her. She saw Charlie’s outline hovering over the basinet in one corner.

“Charlie…” She whispered and held out her hand limply.

He was kneeling by the bed in an instant, a look of joy brightening his features in the evening dimness.

“Hello.” He said quietly as he held her hand. “Feeling better?”

“I feel like I’ve been worked over by thugs, but, yes, much better thank you.” She smiled weakly. “What happened?”

“A little bleeding, that’s all. It’s mostly stopped now and Sera seems to think that you’ll be just fine after another transfusion.” He kissed her hand lightly and she saw that two fingers of his right hand were taped together.

“What’s that?”

“You, my dear.” Charlie chuckled and winced at the memory. “You fractured my middle finger during labor. You’re much stronger than you think, you know…”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. It’s the best injury that I’ve ever sustained. And the most memorable.” He flashed her a wide, crooked grin. “Would you like to meet your daughter now?”

“Without delay.” She tried to prop herself upright and winced.

Charlie turned from the basinet and carefully cradled his daughter in his arms. His long, powerful body melted into a soft curve of tenderness that she had rarely seen in him as his eyes soaked her in.

“How long was I out for?” Evey asked.

“About an hour.” He said distractedly.

 _Long enough_ , she thought, _Long enough for him to fall in love with another woman…_ She smiled as he lay the sleeping infant across her chest. Evey was amazed at how small she was: her tiny nose and fingernails seemed impossible, her eyelashes – a mere suggestion. But she did have a full head of dark, downy-soft hair that curled upwards into a weird infant Mohawk. Evey laughed out loud at the sight of it and lost herself in the feel of that hair for ages. She traced the edge of the baby’s face with a fingertip and watched in wonder as the tiny hands clenched and flexed in her sleep, her tiny mouth stretching slightly in a miniature yawn.

“My God…” Evey whispered to herself.

Charlie looked down at them both with a happiness so expansive that it was hard to bear. He crouched next to the bed and leaned into the side of her neck softly, brushing her ear with his lips.

“Evey Hammond, you have made me so happy.” He whispered.

He pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers, their noses touching. He closed his eyes and remained like that for a moment as his breath warmed her face. She felt the undeniable pull of him and wondered, not for the first time, what it was about her that he loved so forcefully. His love was like a form of magnetism – something ancient and celestial in nature – and she could not have fought it even if she wanted to. He dipped his lips into hers and gave her a long, soft kiss as he hovered over his new daughter.

“Whatever I can give you…” She murmured breathlessly as his lips left hers.

They sat for a moment, both of their hands holding Clare, staring at each other. Evey broke the silence before the awesomeness of the moment crushed them both.

“So, is Clare Tenley as you imagined her? You were so certain that it would be a girl…” She giggled.

“Clare _Hammond_. Charles Tenley isn’t a real person, just as Mac and V were invented. Even James Renfrew no longer exists. I’ve never had a name to give to you or to Clare.” He paused for a moment. “She should have your name – you are as real as it gets. And the name is strong and true: it’s a good name for our daughter, don’t you agree?”

“If that’s what you want.” She said hesitantly.

“Yes. She doesn’t need my name to know that she’s mine. I think that she’ll approve.” He smiled at her. “And yes, to answer your question, she is as I dreamed her – only considerably smaller…”

Evey laughed out loud, bouncing baby Clare slightly on her chest. Charlie grinned and stroked his daughter’s crazy hair. He remained at Evey’s bedside for hours, alternately talking and dreaming of their future together. He privately thought that there could be no happier corner of England than this one on this night, when the Hammond family expanded from two to three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helios is the young Greek god of the sun. He is the son of Hyperion and Theia. By the Oceanid Perse he became the father of Aeëtes, Circe, and Pasiphae. His other children are Phaethusa ("radiant") and Lampetia ("shining") and Phaeton.  
> Each morning at dawn he rises from the ocean in the east and rides in his chariot, pulled by four horses - Pyrois, Eos, Aethon and Phlegon -- through the sky, to descend at night in the west.
> 
> Evey’s moment in the river, when she sees the microscopic life teeming about her, was inspired by the theory of Brownian Motion, which is a mathematical formula for calculating the random movement of particles in liquid. Brownian Motion has also been used to justify Chaos Theory and predict stock market volatility. It is deeply cool.
> 
> “The beginning of a beautiful friendship” is from the movie Casablanca.


	27. Micro and Macrocosms

Charlie and Evey enjoyed one month of pastoral bliss with their new daughter before being called back to London by Eric. The Deputy PM’s government had finally fallen, leaving the parliamentary process at a standstill, and an election had been called. Eric apologized to Evey profusely for cutting her leave short, but they both knew that the work that lay immediately before them was far too important to postpone. Reluctantly, Briar House was dust covered and closed up, and the new Hammond family with Sera in tow was ferried back to Evey’s recently acquired London townhouse.

As they drew closer to the city, Charlie felt Evey’s mood shift gears. The relative awe of new motherhood that she had been basking in for the past month dimmed and the familiar tightness of worry and stress lined the creases of her eyes and forehead. Though the change was subtle, he felt it as if she was shouting it from the backseat of the car. He himself was not so concerned about the future, outside of the daily discoveries of parenthood, and wished that she could just allow certain things to _unfold_ as they would. Charlie was a firm believer in control, but he also recognized the futility of worrying about possible outcomes that might never come to pass.

They stopped at a petrol station and Evey got out to stretch her legs while Charlie handled the automated pump. She walked over to an untended grass verge that separated the station from the motorway and lost herself in thought, absently counting cars as they sped past her. She heard him come up behind her, under the noise of engines, and thought how odd it was that he would never sneak up on her again now that she sensed things more acutely. His arms wrapped lightly around her collarbones and she felt the warmth of him up her back. The two stood and stared at the traffic unspeaking for several moments, and then she felt him sigh. Charlie turned her to face him and stared her down with his silver eyes, a half smile crinkling his scarred lips. He leaned in and delicately kissed her temple, afterwards raising what would have been his eyebrows in an unspoken question. She smiled quickly and kissed him, realizing that this was as intimate as they had been with each other since Clare had arrived.

“Yes, you are right: I’m over-thinking again.” She said. “It’s a little creepy that you can tell what I’m thinking _and_ talk to me about it without speaking, you know…”

He laughed lightly and pulled her into his chest while turning her back towards the car.

“Creepy, but useful – especially once Clare starts to understand words and I want to suggest something…grown-up.”

Evey poked his side and giggled while thinking that he did have a point.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

Clare liked the country. She liked the devoted attention of both of her parents, undiluted by other daily concerns. She did not like the city and made her displeasure known by promptly developing colic the moment that her family set foot in their new abode. She screamed and fidgeted until she was red in the face, driving both Evey and Charlie to distraction while Sera looked on in concerned silence. The child’s fitful sleeping and eating habits forced Evey to work from home, being on 24 hour call to her unhappy charge. Charlie and Sera walked, changed, bathed and cooed over Clare, but ultimately only Evey could feed her and thus she bore the brunt of the sleeplessness and anxiety. Charlie watched her in unspoken worry. She had lost much of her “baby fat” quickly and now looked a little too thin for a nursing mother. She rarely slept for more than a few hours at a time, and despite full days spent wrangling news releases and drafting speeches for Eric in her home office, she would not allow Sera to stay up with the baby at night – saying that there was no reason for the _both_ of them to go without sleep. 

Sera kept herself busy in her new urban home by unpacking the mostly new furniture and housing supplies, and setting up the house that Evey was too distracted to deal with. She also tended to the kitchen, along with Charlie, much as she had at Briar House. It was not long before the spacious townhouse developed the same warm, lived-in feel that they all had become so accustomed to up north. 

Sera found city life to be quite an adjustment. The noises, the crushes of people, the intolerance of others towards her silence made her feel alien and defensive. She was devoted to Evey, Charlie and especially Clare, and had not hesitated when they asked her to accompany them to London, but she missed the solitude and privacy of the moors. She looked upon the Hammonds as her family: Charlie and Evey as siblings, Clare as her niece – but she longed for a confidante. Even more so, she silently wished for a sliver of the love that she saw pass between Charlie and Evey in furtive glances. It was hard to meet new people when everyone thought that you were an idiot. It was even harder to find love when you felt that you truly did not deserve it. And then Chief Inspector Stone had come by the house to welcome them.

He was dashing and rakishly handsome to her provincial eyes. He was exactly the type of man who never took any notice of her. But, he took notice. He was enamored of Clare, as most people were, and dropped by often after his shifts and made excuses to play with the baby, or read her a story or even offered to just take her off everyone’s hands for a few hours. It was touching and strangely out of character for the commander of a police force. Sera had heard him berate an officer over the phone once and decided that Dominic Stone was not a person that she wanted to be alone with in an interrogation cell. Yet, when he held Clare, he was all tenderness. Sera never had to advise him on the proper way to hold or burp a baby, as she had to Charlie: Dom just _knew_.

Perhaps Dom also just knew that there were some people that you did not _push_ , and Sera was one of them. Whereas others had always probed and prodded about her past and her forced silence, Dom quietly accepted it without question, much as Charlie had. Sera appreciated this more than her unique language could express. Yes, she had a big girl crush on the Inspector all right, but that is all that it would ever be – she knew from experience. She had no right to expect anything more, but she would enjoy the flirtation fully while she had it. He probably liked leggy blondes with big boobs anyway, she reasoned…

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Nearly three weeks after their arrival in London, life began to settle a bit. Clare’s colic abated, the house started to come together, and sheer exhaustion forced Evey to cut back on her constant level of worrying. One night after kicking Sera out of the kitchen and doing the washing up herself, Evey wandered into Charlie’s den and found him sitting before a crackling fire gesticulating wildly to his daughter who lay enraptured in his lap. She stood in the doorway amused by both the dramatic display and her daughter’s questioning face, when the words that Charlie was uttering finally sunk into her.

“What are you telling her?” Evey spoke cautiously.

Charlie turned to face the study door and smiled in surprise at his new audience.

“Macbeth.”

“You’re telling our infant daughter a story about murder and avarice?” Evey’s eyebrows arched in disapproval.

“My love, I could be reading her a UB40 form and she’d still find it entertaining.” He turned back to lean over his daughter and growled at her in a mock-monster’s voice. “It’s not _what_ you say, but _how_ you say it, isn’t that right dearheart?”

Clare made a wet spitting noise that Charlie took as approval of his theory. She then made an exasperated whine that Evey thought was her scolding her mother for being such a killjoy. Evey shook her head at the two of them: peas in a pod already. She would always be the odd man out in this threesome.

“Well, bloody revenge and ghosts and such will simply have to wait.” She sighed. “It’s bath time, followed, hopefully, by a short trip to dreamland.” 

Evey raised her arms out towards father and daughter with a tired smile on her face. Clare gurgled and looked up at her father, squeezing and relaxing her tiny fingers in a manner that made Evey think that the baby was hatching a plan of some sort. Charlie rose from his chair, cradling Clare close to him.

“I’ll take care of bath time. We’ve _just_ gotten to the best part…I could not, in good conscience, keep her hanging.” Charlie smiled slyly and kissed Evey tenderly as he passed her near the study doorway. “Take the evening off, my love. I’ll be by later to tuck you in too.”

Evey felt his warmth as he passed her and the invisible thread that bound them so tightly pulled taunt in an instant. He continued on down the hallway and up the stairs to the second floor.

“No working, mind you!” He called down as an afterthought.

She stared after him and was overwhelmed by the need to be close to him. She wanted his hands to hold her and define her again as his love, his wife, his Evey. She shook her head for the second time and rubbed her face with her hands. This was so much harder than she thought it would be: a new home, new baby, and a job that demanded so much of her. She felt alone and slightly lost – which was ludicrous considering that she had Charlie and Sera to help her – like she was losing a sense of who she was. _It doesn’t have to be this way, you know_ , a voice inside her trilled, _you could tell Eric to sod off and take the family back up north – hide in the dales forever…_ No. Some things were just too important; she had to do it for Clare, if for no one else.

“Clare, Charlie…” She whispered to herself. “Please don’t let me screw this up.”

\----------------------------------------------------

Charlie awoke in the night and sluggishly reached out for Evey. His hand found her side of the bed warm but empty. He raised his head and blinked, trying to figure out where she had gone at 3am. He had not heard Clare crying, and he had become strangely attuned to that particular sound over the past 2 months, but he could think of no other reason for Evey to have forsaken sleep.

“If she’s in her office, I’ll wring her tiny neck…” He murmured to himself as he put on some pants and went in search of her.

Down the hall he popped his head into the nursery and found Evey seated next to the crib rocking and nursing Clare. She stared off into the distance as she vaguely hummed something, her unkempt hair and exposed breast luminous in the dim light streaming through the room’s windows. She wore a soft, dark robe that he had given to her, making her appear as though she was emerging from darkness itself. He sighed and imagined his hands were the robe, wrapped around her keeping her warm, offering her comfort. They had not had much time to themselves after Clare’s birth and he found that he missed her terribly despite being with her nearly everyday. Rushing to complete errands, or struggling with unforeseen work issues, or even putting aside all matters in favor of Clare filled their days so completely that they barely had time for a private conversation before one or both of them fell into hopeless unconsciousness at the end of the day. Selfishly, he wanted her back for himself, but could not demand it of her seeing what a toll their new life was taking on her. He adored his daughter inexpressibly, but lamented the time of her arrival. If only she had been born after the damned election – or if only the damned election had happened later…

“Oh, you little blighter!” Evey swore under her breath and Charlie snapped out of his ponderings.

He wandered into the room behind her.

“Blighter? Really? I’m not certain that _that_ is a typical term of endearment…” He mused.

Evey turned quickly and placed a hand over her chest as she recognized him. He noticed that Clare was asleep, her little pink lips slightly apart.

“I didn’t hear you there – how odd…” She moved to hold Clare in one arm and cover her breasts with the other. “She’s a snacker: she fell asleep on me before I could switch breasts.”

Charlie moved quickly and relieved Evey of the baby, placing her trusting, limp form back into the crib. Clare wriggled slightly, threatening to reawaken, but then settled with a deep, contented sigh that was echoed unconsciously by both of her parents. Charlie turned and looked at Evey. She gestured towards the change table with a tired look.

“Can you pass me the breast pump, love? I’ll have to finish what the snacker started…”

Charlie moved slowly and deliberately away from the change table to crouch before her. Evey arched her eyebrow at him but said nothing. A small smile curled the corners of her tired mouth that caused Charlie’s stomach to flutter unexpectedly. Sinking to his knees before her, he lightly ran his hands along the tops of her thighs, up along her sides and inside the opening of her robe. She was soft and warm in his grip and his fingers slid over her skin randomly, eating up inches of her over and over again. She closed her eyes and leaned back into the rocking chair, sighing as she relaxed under him. He had not intended to seduce her – he did not wish to demand anything from her – he had only wished to remind himself of her: to offer comfort and receive it back in kind. Her legs drooped open and he gently pushed his body between them, causing her to look at him suddenly. He leaned forward and pressed the length of his naked chest against hers while his fingers still roamed her. He bent his face into the crook of her neck and sighed, making her shiver under his breath. Her arms laced under his and pulled him close.

“I’ve missed you so much.” She whispered.

He pulled back from her and stared into her eyes. Silver to brown; they both said exactly the same thing.

“Oh Evey,” He whispered back “I _do_ know…”

Her index finger grazed the edge of his scarred jaw line, leading him ever so lightly towards her mouth. His lips met hers, so soft and full, and pulled her into him by the will of his mouth alone. He was gentle and took his time teasing her lips apart, tracing her opening with the tip of his tongue until hers beckoned him in further. His fingers traced over her breasts, cupping their weight and fullness, and squeezing her nipples slightly. She shifted under his mouth but did not make a sound, no doubt so as not to rouse the baby. His mouth parted from hers with a satisfying sucking sound and inched its way down her neck, past her collarbone and to her breasts marking her with wet mementos as he went. As her reached her breast, the one sadly neglected by Clare, he traced the outline of her nipple with his tongue as he felt her hands cup the back of his head. With deliberate tenderness his lips encircled her and began to slowly suck. Evey’s legs parted further and her hands at the base of his skull pulled him in closer.

“A little harder…” She whispered.

Charlie had feared hurting her, but at her request he stepped up his attentions, applying more suction until he was rewarded with a pulsing flow in his mouth and a grateful sigh from above. He was surprised how warm it was – like a liquid extension of her skin – and he tried to imagine the sense of release that this offered her. His hands slipped deeper into the recesses of her robe, one cupping her bottom and one cradling her spine, drawing her still closer. He remembered a moment in the bathroom at Briar House shortly after his return when he had suckled her and wondered what she was thinking about as she faded away in ecstatic release. As if transmitting his thoughts through his hands and his lips, she leaned forward and caressed his ear with her lips.

“Imagine what you feel as you come within me… a sense of completely letting go. Imagine the need to come, not just in desire, but in a physical expression of love and trust…” She stopped for a moment, unable to breathe and speak at the same time. “And imagine the peace afterwards. You give part of yourself away but it’s not a burden.”

She moved and switched to his other ear quickly.

“To give yourself to your child is a joy beyond expression, Charlie.” He shivered as she whispered his name. “But every time I give myself to you, I feel the same way. I love you and Clare so much…”

Her voice broke on the last sentence and he abandoned her breast and reconnected with her mouth with an intensity that matched her words. She moaned and then tried to stop herself, realizing that they were still in the nursery. Her talk of release had aroused him, and what had started as a way to expel some of her tension was quickly giving rise to tension of his own. He did not want to need her tonight, to experience that sense of love and trust and letting go that she had described, but it had been a few months and he doubted that he could restrain himself for much longer. He decided to furtively ask for her leave: if she were so good at reading his thoughts, she would understand him well enough. His kiss intensified and pushed her into the back of the chair while his hand snaked from her bottom to the warm crevice between her thighs. She was warm and wet there, but to him that was not consent enough. His finger dipped into her and made a light pass around her sensitive bud. He made a low, interrogative noise deep within his chest and waited. Evey pulled away from his mouth and breathed heavily, trying to do so as quiet as possible. He stared at her bottomless brown eyes, his chest heaving under the strain of his racing heart. She pulled his hand from her and raised it slowly to her lips. Encircling his finger in warmth so similar its previous home, she began to suck and then leaned forward quickly to mouth his name across his lips soundlessly. 

Charlie wasted no time as he scooped her from the rocking chair and laid her out across the nursery’s area rug. He stood up suddenly and looked down on her as she lay sprawled, her dark robe open giving up its pale bounty to him. Her long tresses haloed around her as if she was lying in water, and her legs demurely tented just below her crown of soft hazel curls. He breathed in deeply and offered up a silent note of thanks that he was continually allowed to see her like this: waiting for him. Evey smiled and raised her hands from the floor towards him. He shucked his pants with frightening speed and laid himself down over her body until they melted into a comfortable partnership. He slowly began to rub his aching erection against her thigh while licking up the remnants of milk that leaked from her breast. He pushed too hard and accidentally slipped the tip of him inside her without preamble. They were so wet together that it was difficult to control himself. She gasped, her body supersensitive after childbirth and his extended absence, and she suddenly thought better of what they were doing.

“Charlie!” She whispered as loud as she dared without waking Clare. “Charlie, we can’t! Not here…”

He pinned her wrists above her head and leaned his whole self forcefully down on her.

“Shhhhhhhh.” He husked in her ear as he maneuvered her thighs apart with one knee. “Quiet now, not a sound…”

Charlie once again slipped the barest hint of himself inside her and then moved back out. Evey’s hips were pulsing, asking for more, just as her hands and her frantic hissing begged him to stop, to delay, to have pity and move them to the bedroom down the hall. He ignored her pleas and silenced her whispers with his lips as he slipped in and out of her, each time probing just a fraction deeper. Every time he left her, she let slip a low meep and he was forced to remind her to keep quiet. His groin throbbed and tightened as he played with her, then he decided that neither one of them had the patience nor inclination for games. He pushed himself into her fully and nearly passed out as the walls of her clamped down around him and a fresh wetness coincided with a moan that she took great pains to suppress. He bit down on his own lip to avoid a moan of his own, and began to stroke her into a twitching yet silent frenzy. He knew that it would be quick: neither one of them had the fortitude to delay, nor could they indulge for too long within earshot of the baby. Evey was close – he could feel it – but she was holding back. He slipped a finger between them and sought out her swollen bud, teasing and rubbing in a manner that must have bordered on painful, but which brought about her unrestrained release quickly. Her hands moved to their connection and guided his hands as she rode through an orgasm that spasmed her entire body for some time, and in eerie silence. As she collapsed the only sound that she made was rasped breathing.

After a minute, she regained her sense of awareness and realized that Charlie was still in her, still hard, and staring down at her in silence.

“Did you come?” She whispered in disbelief.

He shook his head, no.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry – that was selfish of me…”

He silenced her with a soft kiss as he pulled himself away from her. She looked up at him in confusion, and then a sudden flash of panic flickered across her features. He quickly bent to kiss her again, stroking her cheek with his fingers as he did so.

“It wasn’t about _my_ release, it was about yours, my love. In all the times that I’ve been with you, I’ve never _watched_ you climax – it was quite a thing to see, let me tell you…” He smiled down at her.

“But we haven’t been together for so long, Charlie…” She stammered, now slightly embarrassed. “Have I been flattering myself all this time? Can you forego being with me longer than I can you?”

Charlie chuckled softly, casting a quick glance towards the crib as he did so.

“Christ, woman – I’m practically chafing for it! But I thought that perhaps we’d tend to your needs immediately, and, if you give me leave to do so, we could adjourn to the master suite where I can enjoy you in full song…”

Evey laced her arms around his neck and clasped her hands tightly together, pulling his face close to hers.

“I’m certain that I can manage again, if that’s what you want of me.” She smiled seductively and kissed him for a very long time.

A groan mumbled in his chest and without warning he rocked back onto his knees carrying her with him. He rose with her in his arms and made his way to the nursery door. On the threshold, he turned back so that both of them could see their sleeping child.

“Do your father a favor, blossom, and _sleep soundly_.” He whispered, nodded his head and disappeared into the hallway.

Evey giggled into his chest as he quickly covered the distance between nursery to bedroom, eager to make love to his wife at length and quite loudly.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The toast was burning, Clare had just spit on Evey’s blouse, Eric was due in 10 minutes and Charlie still was not fully dressed. It was a typical Tuesday morning. Charlie rescued the toast as he took the baby from Evey. She headed upstairs to find a new, unstained blouse, and smiled as she passed Sera on the stairs heading down into Hammond chaos. Sera seemed strangely aglow this morning, and while Evey was similarly luminous, she doubted that their inner lights had the same source. Evey made note to ask her about it later, her sisterly curiosity peaked.

Sera wandered into the smoky kitchen and soundlessly set about making new toast, much to Charlie’s relief: one could simply not start the day without a bracing cup of tea and a spot of toast. Sera relieved him of his burpy little charge so that he could finish buttoning his shirt and seeing to his Windsor knot when the doorbell rang.

“Dammit!” came a muted curse from Evey upstairs.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it.” Charlie called out as he stepped lively to answer the door. 

He was in a fabulous mood and was looking forward to their policy meeting with Eric. Things were starting to go places in the campaign, and with televised debates coming up shortly, there was plenty of work to be done. He slid the last few steps to the doorway in stocking feet and threw the door open to welcome Eric inside. Instead, he was welcomed by a tall, auburn-haired woman whose beauty had the absolute opposite effect on him that it had on most men. She turned and looked into his blue-eyed, black-wigged, bespeckled visage and suddenly a glow of recognition melted her features.

“Good morning, Charlie!” Sidney Sumner appeared genuinely happy to see him. “God, it’s good to see you…”


	28. A Close Enemy

Charlie blinked rapidly in the morning sunlight, staring at the relaxed, smiling vision that was Sidney Sumner darkening his doorway. Then, with almost no warning, he grabbed her by the lapels of her overcoat and bodily flung her inside the townhouse, slamming the door firmly behind him.

“Oof!” Sidney huffed as she steadied herself. “Charlie! Whatever happened to foreplay?”

“It’s Mac.” He growled lowly. “If you must address me, I’m James MacDiarmid now. Charlie is dead, remember?”

He curled his fists unconsciously and took up a fighter’s stance as he glared at her. Sidney’s near-permanent smile faded slightly as her eyes focused on a point that only lived in her memory. She did not mimic his battle position at all.

“Yes, I know. It is hard to forget…” She murmured almost to herself.

Charlie’s body loosened at the sound of her voice but his eyes remained fixed on her, wary of what he knew of her trickster nature.

“Even still,” Sidney continued “I did not know that you had survived – Evey’s solicitor left out that little detail – and I am truly glad to see that you have. You may choose to believe me or not, _Mac_ …”

Sidney had recomposed herself in record time and had returned to the vaguely flirty, calculating persona that Charlie knew so well. _Masks are everywhere_ , he thought suddenly, _Why would she show me anything but what she wanted me to see?_

“How did you know it was me?” He asked cautiously.

“Granted you are greatly changed – and I’m not just referring to the new appearance…” Sidney turned and eyed him critically from head to toe, then smiled appreciatively. “ _Love_ this whole ‘metrosexual gypsy’ thing that you’ve got going on… very ‘swimming against the current’, isn’t it? The Clark Kent specs are a nice touch of irony, though I wouldn’t expect less from you.”

Charlie rolled his eyes and huffed in a get-to-the-point kind of way, and Sidney laughed in a manner that reminded him of tiny silver bells chiming.

“But, perhaps you have forgotten that I am a trained observer of humanity. Half of any tactical preparation is _knowing your enemy_ ; you understand this yourself.” She gestured to him in a manner of mutual regard. “Much of the work that I did for my mother was anticipating possible threats and neutralizing them before they manifested themselves. Violence was always my final resort. I achieved this through observation and study: your outer trappings may have changed but you cannot hide the beast beneath no more than you can alter your skeletal structure. I would know you anywhere, Mac, because I have studied you.”

Distracted steps crossed the floor above them and then Evey appeared at the top of the stairs adjusting an earring as she descended.

“Why are you two chatting in the hallway?” She said without looking. “Mac, show Eric to the…”

“Ah, there you are.” Sidney turned and smiled at Evey. “The very person that I was looking for.”

“Oh…” Evey hesitated on the stairs for an instant, and then flicked her gaze guiltily towards Charlie before addressing Sidney again. “I didn’t expect you to come to the house. I thought that we were to meet at Mr. Bogelman’s office later this week?”

“Surprise!” Sidney said with a dramatic flourish.

“Huh, yes.” Evey’s tone was not amused. “Now’s not the best time – I’m expecting my boss for a meeting.”

“Yes, yes, the irascible Eric Finch, I know. I won’t keep you. But I thought it best to give you what little medical information that I still possessed. That way you could review it and ask me whatever questions you may still have at our _scheduled_ meeting later this week.”

Sidney quickly fished a slim file folder from her bag and passed it to Evey. Evey took it and flipped through it without making eye contact with Charlie, who seemed permanently rooted to his current position in the foyer. Sidney spotted Charlie’s suit jacket lying across the banister and took it in hand.

“I have returned to England for some private affairs, but getting this info to you was first on my list of tasks: I only landed at Heathrow some 3 hours ago…” She spoke casually – as if to old acquaintances – and walked towards Charlie, shaking the creases from his suit coat. “Come here, sir. We can’t have you meeting your boss dishabille, can we?”

Before he could brook refusal, Sidney stood behind him and had one arm in his coat sleeve. Every instinct in Charlie bristled with apprehension at having Sidney Sumner behind him and at the disadvantage of his reach, but she had done nothing even remotely threatening, so he allowed her to help him into his coat with only a low growl of disapproval. Sidney neatly adjusted the line of his shoulders and smoothed the jacket’s back seam into place, removing a spec of lint as she went. It was a surprisingly intimate gesture. Charlie noticed that Evey’s eyes narrowed slightly as she watched Sidney smooth the coat over his body.

“Fear not, Evelyn dear.” Sidney cooed lightly from behind Charlie. “His impressiveness aside, _you_ are generally far more my type than he is.”

Sidney winked and Evey’s jaw gaped open unconsciously for a split second before she regained control of herself. Paradoxically, Charlie relaxed at this new revelation. Sexual tension was not something that he handled particularly well.

“Ahh, much better!” Sidney enthused. “A man in a well tailored suit is a sight to behold…”

Just then, as if a gift from the god of awkwardness, the doorbell rang. Charlie leapt as if his shoes were on fire towards the door.

“Mac!” Eric cheered warmly. “’Morning!”

“Good morning, Eric. Do come in.”

“Ahh, the next Prime Minister of Britain has arrived!” Sidney exclaimed while both Charlie and Evey inwardly cringed. “It’s a pleasure, sir. Sidney Sumner.”

Eric shook her proffered hand woodenly, eyes fixed on the impressively imposing redhead that dominated his view with magnetic eyes and a dazzling smile.

“Good luck with the campaign. I’m sure that at times it must seem more like a circus side show than a test of your political fitness, no?”

“Sadly, Ms. Sumner, common sense is not often the order of the day in British governance, and one does want to put on a good show, regardless of the outcome…” Eric oozed assurance.

“Quite so.” Sidney chirped, eyeing him up as she did everyone. “Well, I’ll let you get to it then. I look forward to some spirited debates from you, Mr. Finch. Evey, Mac – good day.”

Sidney nodded and left as quickly as she had arrived. The door closed firmly behind her, Eric looked first to Charlie, then Evey with a gaze of escalating unease.

“Just what the hell was _she_ doing in your house, Evey?” He sputtered.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Charlie stood under the canopy of the Savoy Hotel and shook out his umbrella. It was a grimy, depressing downpour of a day but he had business that drew him out: personal business. The doorman held the immaculate glass doors open just after Charlie had given his appearance a once-over in them and headed straight to Sidney’s room without stopping at the front desk. His shoes swished lovingly across the plush hallway Berber of the hotel’s highest floor. He concentrated on the sound to calm his inward unease: the recognition of fine things always lulled him. Sidney clearly favored them as well; another strange parallel between them – two killers with champagne tastes. She could also still afford them – at least he had not deprived her of _everything_ when he sent Sidney’s mother and Vervain MedCom to hell in a blaze of fiery retribution a year before, he thought.

Charlie felt a strange kinship with Sidney, though they had known each other only briefly. But the kinship embraced qualities that Charlie had tried hard to erase from his current incarnation of loving husband and father. Sidney’s presence, her hunter’s skills, her killer’s insights and her thrill in pursuit of her prey were all traits that he had once valued very highly in his own personality. Those traits had served him well for 20 years and had kept him alive to see this day, though he now tried to deny them because they were no longer convenient or useful. Sidney’s existence made him feel a traitor to his own skin: a betrayer to the personality that withstood torture, maiming and insanity so that he might continue on. The news that she bore was equally troublesome, but because he had sworn to Evey to live every day that remained to him fully, he brought himself to Sidney’s door in search of the complete answers that her documents so discretely skirted.

A smart knocking brought her to the door, and though her face hid it well, she was surprised to see him.

“Mac, what an unexpected pleasure. I was only anticipating room service…”

“Sidney.” He crooned softly. “Let me in, would you? I have some things that I wish to discuss.”

“Of course.” 

Her tone suggested that she knew exactly what he was going to ask her and that she had been preparing herself for this meeting even though it had arrived sooner than expected. She turned her back on him and walked ahead into the sprawling suite; a small sign that she trusted him and did not anticipate violence on his part. _Good,_ he thought, _perhaps her answers will be equally guileless_.

“You read the file, I assume?” She began without preamble, gesturing that he should sit in one of the overstuffed couches.

“Yes. It seemed…incomplete. Which is why I am here, and alone.”

Sidney eyed him with a sly smile from across the bar as she prepared drinks. She crossed the floor and offered him a crystal glass with a liberal amount of 18-year-old single malt in it. He took it appreciatively but placed it untouched on the table before him.

“There is not much more to it but I did not wish to upset Evey with the added details.” She murmured. “She has a vested, highly emotional interest in those results, both as a wife and as a mother of a possible _carrier_.”

Charlie did not react, merely crossed his legs and sunk deeper into the couch, spreading his arms wide across its spine affecting an air of relaxation.

“The file indicated that my…spell of dementia was expected, but that I already knew from Andrea.” Charlie waited to she if she responded to her mother’s name. She did not. “She claimed that my migraines were indicative of an organic system failure and were irreversible. But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

“Yes. If you view yourself as a highly tuned engine that has been performing at full throttle for several years, it is normal and natural that parts of this engine should wear out; performance slips and defects become more noticeable. But this happens to us all, enhanced or not. While you started out as human, your body has successfully assimilated the biochemical changes that my mother was trying to achieve. This means that you are, and will remain, something _more than human_. The mere fact that you have existed in this altered state for decades convincingly suggests that the enhancement has stabilized – in you, at any rate.”

Sidney sipped at her scotch and adjusted her skirt across her knees, as if trying to buy time for her next revelation.

“What my mother said about the migraines was true - _for the other test subjects_. The migraines proved to be the last, fatal symptom of system failure. This was because their bodies fundamentally rejected the enhancement. Yours has not which made you valuable beyond price to my mother. I used the migraine thing as an angle to get to Evey: I knew that her concern for your health would afford me the leverage that I needed to obtain you.” Sidney sighed momentarily. “I’m not proud of my actions in this affair, I assure you.”

“So, what does this actually mean?”

“I honestly don’t know. Smart as I am, I’m not a medical doctor. What associates in the field have told me is that you are truly one of a kind. Your recent ‘resurrection’ suggests that your physical abilities have fortified greatly over time, but I believe that such a strain, even on your advanced system, will take its toll. You may be impervious to bullets, broken bones and disease, but it may just come down to you _wearing out_ like the rest of us, only sooner. The sporadic dementia, and other symptoms, will increase over time and with stress as they would with any _aging_ man. I cannot say when you will end, but that is the same for any of us, isn’t it? Relax, my friend, there is no certain timeline for your death.”

Sidney appeared to have said all that she was going to and drained her glass. She looked at it quizzically and seemed to be pondering the merits of a refill.

“I don’t understand.” Charlie finally spoke. “Why couldn’t you tell this to Evey?”

Sidney sighed and rose to walk back towards the bar. Apparently a refill was in order.

“These assurances that I have given to you, apply to _you, and you only_. As I said, you are unique. My mother had no idea why you ‘worked’ and no one else did. No combination of enhanced and normal biological samples remained stable for any length of time…”

Sidney looked at him pointedly.

“You’re talking about Clare.” Charlie murmured as his stomach hollowed out.

“Although, she may not have considered it yet, I am also referring to Evey as well: she has been infected by your blood. Several doses of it, if I’m not mistaken. You see, it is not _you_ that I’m worried about, but your family. It seems improbable that all of you should survive for any length of time normally. Though I am impressed that Evey brought Clare to term. That is encouraging. And you say that Clare appears healthy?”

“As normal as any other child.” Charlie whispered as he reached for his scotch for the first time.

Sidney remained quiet and watchful as her news sunk into Charlie. Something close to sympathy broke across her face as her body melted into the bar. She appeared to have used all of her strength in reserve to deliver her news. Charlie stared back at her without emotion, then he carefully placed his glass on the table before him and fixed her with a calculating look.

“You said that I am unique, but there is…another.”

Sidney looked as if her closest friend had just shot her. An uncharacteristic flood of emotions rippled across her face ranging from shock, anger, and disbelief, ending finally in shame before recombining into a mask of civility. She was about to deny his knowledge when he spoke again.

“Tell me about Seven.” His voice was low and predatory. “Don’t bother denying it – she told me. She told me in order to spare her life. I killed her anyway.”

Why had he said that? Antagonizing Sidney with thoughts of her mother was not going to make her more amenable. There was no logic to his instincts suddenly. _She talks of losing my family like the rich talk of third world debt. I want her to FEEL how losing everything that defines you paralyses – how it is shredding me from the inside out! I want her to know that killing Andrea Susan wasn’t enough revenge: would that I could kill her again! Not for the innocent lives taken in the camps, or the victims of St. Mary’s, or even for my own wasted life – but for the lives of my wife and daughter. They are given a death sentence merely because I love them. The irony that I shall likely outlive them both makes me want nothing but the dizzying pleasure of running amok in the streets, free to ravage, murder, bludgeon, maim, eviscerate, slice, - drown in the unholy terror of my own invincibility!_

The sound of breaking glass brought Charlie back to himself. Before him the plate glass coffee table lay in shattered ruins, blood dripped through the tears in his leather gloves. He felt nothing – no pain – just surprise that he had not been aware of his impulse to action. Sidney stared at him in wide-eyed amazement.

“Why did you do that?” She asked quietly without moving.

Charlie sighed and stared at his hands as if observing the movements of someone else. He breathed in and out meditatively, no longer caring if Sidney was present or not. He made an interested trilling noise in the back of his throat and turned his hands over. Straightening his shoulders and sitting squarely, he appeared to be growing larger, as if taking up the space of two or more men. Sidney waited, and appeared to be holding her breath. When he finally answered her, she seemed shocked to hear only one voice, as if fully expecting a chorus to erupt from him.

“It’s difficult to pretend to be someone else.” He said simply.

“I have some experience with that.” Sidney replied after a time.

Charlie looked up then and realized that she _did_ understand. Her sexual preference would have been unacceptable to her mother; Sidney would have had to pretend that she was ‘normal’ since she first recognized her urges. And, she was a killer – she understood the forbidden thrill of hunting and the blood-born elixir of holding life in her hands. Yet she ‘passed’ in everyday society, she blended into the background of mediocrity easily as if it were a game. He wondered suddenly if she had ever been completely honest about herself with anyone. His wonder was quickly followed by an overriding desire to see Evey again and confirm his own humanity.

“I am a killer – it is the one thing that never changes, however I reinvent myself. It was why Susan chose me as a test subject.” His voice had changed, grown deeper somehow and it appeared that he was only speaking to himself. “My thirst for vengeance runs deep. If a threat stands before me, my instinct is to simply destroy it.”

He sat back into the depths of the couch cradling his wounded hand.

“But now I find that I am a killer who loves, and is loved. Something threatens my love and my rage ripples beneath my skin like fish under a frozen lake. But the threat has long since died. There is only one person left to punish – the _actual_ agent of their deaths: me.” He chuckled in a sick way that made Sidney’s skin crawl. “The irony of the situation is fitting, I suppose, in light of what I took from you…”

 

“From me?” Sidney whispered.

“Andrea and Adam. Though they both richly deserved their fates and I would not hesitate to do the same again, they were your family and I took that from you. You would be well within your rights to want revenge upon me for that. Perhaps my family’s current fate is revenge enough…”

His voice faded away leaving them both cocooned in heavy, uncomfortable silence. Sidney shifted for the first time since Charlie had broken the table, taking up her seat across from him. She addressed him quietly across the field of broken glass.

“I want nothing from you.” 

Charlie looked up at her then, focusing on something beyond his own inner world for the first time. Her eyes were clear and unguarded, but also tired. He thought that perhaps he did not really know her either, despite their many similarities.

“Andrea was… simply all I knew. But to say that I miss her in any traditional mother-daughter sense would be a lie. She resented having me – the burden of being a single parent and a constant reminder of her own emotional fallibility - and though I was intelligent and useful to her, had she known my inner workings more intimately she would have labeled me as inferior and found me as disposable as any of her test subjects.”

Sidney shivered visibly and her eyes narrowed.

“I did not know the extent of her plan until the final days before you and Evey arrived at Vervain. I have always felt myself to be… cold, morally flexible, but the scope of her experiments and her general disdain for humanity left me nauseous. I found this to be… disturbingly unexpected. In her future there would be no allowances for the truly extraordinary, the gifted, the odd – no people like you or me – just homogeneity and superiority and might. It was as unimaginative and dull as it was insidious and frightening. I was disgusted by her and found that I wanted no further part of her schemes.” Sidney paused for a moment, and then continued her next thought in a whisper.

“If you had not killed her, I might have done the job myself. Someone _that_ narrow and uninspired did not deserve to have dominion over anyone. That is why I decided to help Evey and to help you.”

Charlie sat and stared at Sidney, who, in turn, stared straight back at him. At length, he nodded his head knowingly, as if he had just grasped something important which had eluded him for some time.

“You are weak.” He said, a slight smile curling one side of his mouth.

“Yes, she certainly thought so.” Sidney smiled back. “But without weakness, without failure, true greatness can never be achieved. Perfection is boring. Life should be about challenge and survival – and _reveling_ in that survival!”

“Living every day completely…” Charlie nodded in agreement. “Well, Sidney – in the spirit of that statement: help me. Tell me everything that you know about Seven.”

“There’s not much to tell, really.” She said while deflating into the cushions of the couch. “There’s no proof that he’s even still alive – none that I could find anyway. My mother believed that you were the best bet for her research; Seven was merely a last resort, back-up plan should work with you fail.”

The story of Seven unfolded at great length, revealing that he, like Ensign Renfrew, had been a volunteer to the testing program, but acquired much later on in the testing process. He had therefore been exposed to fewer toxins for a shorter period of time, apparently receiving the benefit of the experimental knowledge gleaned from previous subjects. Seven became emotionally and psychologically unstable almost immediately and to a much more severe degree than his neighbor, Five, had. The decision was made that Seven had been mentally unsuitable for the testing to begin with, but the pressure to produce results for the Party had forced researchers to be less picky in their selection process. Seven was removed from Larkhill before its destruction in favor of a locked mental ward where he would receive further treatment when and if his condition stabilized. After the fallout over Larkhill’s obliteration, Seven became of victim of Party bureaucracy and was lost in the shadow world of covert medical institutions until someone remembered his importance to the project. When researchers recalled “the sole Larkhill survivor”, he had conveniently disappeared from a little known mental hospital; the beneficiary of a day pass offered by an administrator who was unaware of his history and felt that he posed “no obvious threat” to either himself or his community.

Seven’s psych work-up suggested that he was intelligent, paranoid, completely amoral, and a ruthless self-actualizer, taking actions into his own hands – without direction from others – when he felt that the chain of command had been compromised. Dangerously tunnel-visioned and totally lacking in empathy, he was Andrea Susan’s perfect superman, if it were not for the nasty side effects of being uncontrollable, unpredictable, and at large.

“I found some evidence which suggested that Seven survived the Reclamation and worked briefly in one of Norsefire’s PR offices until he was fired for making incendiary speeches about eugenics and using Party equipment to print up his own leaflets. Then, he just disappeared from all public record. That was 15 years ago.” Sidney paused. “He’s most likely dead, Mac – even if he didn’t have as much of the chemical treatments as you did, that’s no guarantee that he’s still alive. And he’s crazy to boot. What do you believe you’ll gain by finding him?”

“Hope.” He said simply. “Hope of survival for my family – if he made it, maybe they can too, though he does not sound like the type who would help me willingly…”

“If you find him, I’ll _convince_ him to be magnanimous.” Sidney purred ominously.

“I’m not certain that I could live with that sort of aid on my conscience, Sidney, but I thank you for the offer nonetheless.” Charlie inclined his head towards her. “Tell me, what was Seven’s real name?”

“Underhill. Stephen Underhill.”

“Underhill…” Charlie murmured as he rose from the couch and slowly moved towards the door. There was no time to lose.

“Thank you, Sidney. For everything.” 

“Sure.” Sidney said lightly. “Mac, would you like a towel or a bandage for your hand?”

“Whatever for?” Charlie shucked off his ruined glove to reveal his scarred, meaty hand that, nevertheless, showed no sign of new damage at all.

“Jesus Christ!” Sidney gasped. “How is that possible? You cut yourself less than 15 minutes ago! I saw you bleeding…”

Charlie shrugged, no more comfortable with his own miraculous physiology than anyone else but unable to offer up a satisfactory explanation. He discarded both gloves in a wastepaper basket by the front door, walked out into the hallway and headed for the elevators with his hands jammed in his pockets. He did not offer Sidney a goodbye, being too immersed in his own plans and schemes to notice his rudeness. Her voice from behind shocked him as it sliced across thoughts and pulled him back into reality.

“She made a mistake in choosing you as well, you know…” Sidney leaned against the doorframe and smiled. “She thought you morally flexible enough to espouse her plans completely. She discounted the study of psychology – thought it was “lazy science”. She never accounted for the transitory effects of trauma: your wife’s death. Your moral numbness was a phase – you never would have become her ideal specimen because the parameters of your conscience were already deeply entrenched. We don’t really change who we are, Mac. You may be a killer, but not one without feeling and a sense of justice. I spotted it straight off when I met you, and I’m sure that I would have seen it all those years ago as well. It’s obvious to anyone who cares to look.”

Before he could respond, Sidney raised her hand in farewell and turned back into her hotel room, shutting the door behind her. No response was necessary. Charlie stood in the hallway for a moment, unthinking, unfeeling. Then he smiled ruefully.

“Thank you, Sidney.” He whispered and headed back towards the lifts.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charlie arrived home to the standard level of pandemonium that seemed to follow him wherever he went. Something was burning in the kitchen, which Sera was trying to put out. She wore a guilty look as Charlie entered the room, convincing him that it was her inattentiveness that had caused the scorched dinner due to the seemingly ubiquitous presence of Dominic in the townhouse of late. Dom was fanning at the smoke detector in vain, which was screeching about the obvious state of unrest in the kitchen. Evey stood, shell shocked, by the half-filled kitchen sink, trying to calm a crying Clare with one hand while struggling to speak to Eric on a cell phone with the other. The smoke, the screeching, the wailing and the general sense of barely controlled chaos brought an unexpected smile to Charlie’s face. This was his life now, and he was going to fight to keep it.

Without thinking, he walked over to the smoke alarm and smashed it with his right hand, then he strode towards the kitchen window, giving Sera a reassuring smile as he passed her, and opened it allowing the smoke to billow out. Turning towards Evey and Clare, he lifted his daughter into his arms. Clare calmed down almost immediately, but, whether it was due to the silenced smoke alarm or the presence of her beloved Daddy, the child was keeping to herself. Charlie reached for the phone, interrupted Eric’s demands to know what the hell was happening, informed him that Evey would call back in the next 15 minutes, and then rang off. Evey stood speechless as he placed the cell phone on the counter and leaned in for a soft, lingering kiss that embarrassed the other occupants of the kitchen and caused Evey’s knees to go watery. Clare gurgled her approval as her father leaned back from her mother, slowly caressing the curve of her cheek as he moved away.

“I adore you.” He said softly. “Call him back and get him sorted out, then come to my study. I need to speak with you.”

Charlie turned on his heel and left the kitchen, Clare happily ensconced in his arms, without further explanation. Evey, Sera and Dominic gave each other stares of equal bafflement.

“What was _that_ all about, then?” Dominic mumbled.

Sera had flushed a deep shade of rose at Charlie’s display and was busy trying to salvage dinner while not making eye contact with Dominic at the same time. Evey just seemed stunned and responded by blinking repeatedly.

“I have no clue.” She finally responded. “But I’m sure as hell gonna find out…”


	29. Once More Into the Fray

“How can you think of starting this all up again?”

Evey was angry but whispering as Charlie put a dozing Clare down in his study’s cradle. He hovered over her for a moment, watching as his daughter’s easy breathing puffed her doll’s lips, and then turned to face his wife. 

“I’m not starting up anything, Evey – it has already begun. But if you require a reason for my motivations, it’s sleeping soundly over there in that crib.” Charlie swung his arm wide and pointed towards Clare. “And, it’s standing before me with a look that could kill me.”

Evey ignored his comment and turned away from him, walking towards the fireplace and losing her anger in the heat of the flames for an instant. When she spoke again, it was over her shoulder, not trusting that she could have this debate while looking at him.

“Are we never to have a normal life, Charlie? Never a little peace?” She asked quietly. “I swore to stand by you through everything – and I meant it because I love you – now you’re off _actively looking_ for danger, and I didn’t sign on for that! Don’t stand there and tell me that hunting down this…this psychopathic phantom is for me and Clare - ”

“Of course, it’s for you and Clare!” Charlie hissed “My family, my life’s blood – you two are the only things that make my life bearable, and you ask me to turn away from _any_ possibility of saving you? I won’t do that, Evey, not even for you. Any man that would consider it is no man at all!”

“How will killing yourself to find a crazed victim of Andrea Susan _save us_? I made peace with my mortality the moment that I discovered I was pregnant, Charlie – maybe even before that, maybe back on the floor of that filthy cell, back when you were V… And there is nothing to suggest that Clare is anything but normal. This isn’t about _us_ , Charlie – it’s about _you_. You and Sidney…”

Charlie had started to remove his mask, despite his unease in their conversation, but now he stopped and turned to face Evey incredulously.

“Me and Sidney?!”

“Yes. It’s about what she brings out in you: the danger, the hunt, the sense of grander purpose. Your life has always been played out on a larger stage, and now you are a glorified clerk living in the ignominious gloom of modern politics – living in _my shadow_! Forced to hide who you really are, not just from the world, but from us as well…” Evey turned and thrust her chin towards her sleeping daughter “You miss it. You miss being V, and Sidney reminds you of all that you have suppressed in yourself. This search for Seven is an excuse to become who you once were again.”

“Evey!” Charlie flung his prosthetic on his desk and went rigid with rage. “Where _do_ you dream up these scenarios! You are suggesting that I am nothing but a selfish thrill seeker! You are suggesting that I resent being a husband and a father!”

“No, I am not.” Evey tried to calm herself back into a whisper. “I am saying that being a husband and father are not things that you ever thought about _before_ they happened, and as unexpectedly fulfilling as they may be, the man that you truly are is restless and seeks his own bloody purpose again!”

Evey curled her fingers into fists and looked ready to hit something, before her head drooped and she uttered a soft moan of frustration. She took a few steps away from the fire and sunk into a deep, high-backed leather chair, almost losing herself in its shadows.

“I never wanted you to be someone that you’re not, Charlie. I tried to tell you that when I confronted you about torching the Valkyrie Press building. I can still see V under the skin of you. I fell in love with V – I fell in love with your purpose and vision, like a child – but I came to adore the constancy and companionship that you offered to me as Charlie. V was never capable of such things.” Though she was sheltered in the gloom, Charlie could see that she was shaking slightly. 

“But still, V lives within you and you cannot hide him away. You are a killer by nature, and I have never had an issue with that. When he came to the surface again, before Vervain MedCom, I’ll admit that I was happy to see him. I was happy to have a chance to tell him that I loved him – loved _all_ of you for exactly who you are.” Evey became very still and quiet. “But that was before I lost you. Before Clare.”

Something cold and desperate clutched at Charlie’s heart. He was angered by Evey’s words but also feverishly afraid that what she said might be the truth. He also felt that she was working her way up to something that he did not want and had never intended to instigate with this conversation. He ran forward suddenly and sunk to his knees in front of the chair, grabbing her painfully by her upper arms.

“Evey!”

“This violent tilting at windmills that you do, my love, it was fine when you were an underground terrorist and I was your captive…” Her voice was tender yet distant, as if she had already left him somehow.

“You were NEVER my captive, Evey! Always a guest… always my treasured ‘other’…” Charlie’s voice rose as his grip on her tightened.

“…it was even something that I loved about you when I finally saw that V and you were one man. Your commitment to your ideals, your sense of justice has always been a major attraction for me.” Evey continued to ignore both his words and gestures, staring distantly beyond his shoulder instead. “But your ‘death’ taught me a powerful lesson: I cannot survive your demise. I’ve watched you fall twice already and both times nearly ended me. Now there is Clare. I have to be there for her no matter what happens.”

Evey breathed and re-focused on Charlie. She leaned forward out of the chair’s gloom and took his scarred face in both hands though he still pinned her arms painfully.

“If you insist on tilting at windmills once again, despite the danger, despite my fears – I cannot be a part of it this time, Charlie. I will not stand by quietly and wait to lose you a third time. I’m sorry – I never thought that I’d ever be the type of woman to ask her lover to change for her, but that’s exactly what I need you to do: don’t hunt down Seven. Please.”

Silence blanketed the cozy study, so much so that an exploding spark from the fireplace made them both start unexpectedly. Charlie thrummed under Evey’s fingers trying to throttle back his rage and fear and primal need to dominate. How could she ask this of him? Why would she ask him to change – on threat of abandonment – when she swore on her life that she would always love him and stay by his side? A vicious, green thought sliced across his heart that it was solely because of Clare. He loved his child more than any other atom in the universe and she knew it. She was using Clare as a weapon to manipulate him. But why, when finding Seven was the key to saving them all?!

“You don’t understand, Evey…” His words came finally and quietly.

“Yes, I do.”

Evey rose from the leather chair with a sigh and slowly peeled his clenched fingers from her arms. Christ, she was stronger than he had ever thought possible! She tread around his kneeling, deflated form on the hearthrug and walked towards the cradle to fetch Clare. Something inside Charlie snapped. Years of bent and broken rage coalesced into a hard, dark knot that at once flooded his veins with memories of violence yet still remained strangely under his control. All the black, poisonous knot wanted was for her to stay. Nothing else mattered.

“You’re not going anywhere.” 

His threatening growl caused Evey to turn in shock just as he caught up to her and crushed her brutally into him for a kiss that spoke more of possession than love. Evey objected strenuously as she had a vague hint of what emotions were driving his actions, and tried to escape his grasp.

“Don’t!” She hissed.

Charlie ignored both her struggling and her plea as he caught hold of her again and reeled her back into him so roughly that he popped two of her blouse’s buttons in the process. Her shirt gaped open noticeably revealing the mass of delicate, pale skin that he loved to lose himself in. With anger and fear still coursing through him like quicksilver, his focus broke for a moment to tell him that he might be hurting her, might be scaring her. Rapidly his darkness pulled him under again as the voices of discord grew louder and louder within.

_I love her! I need her! She’s my wife and she promised to stay with me. I’ll make her keep her promise… even if she wants to leave, I’ll never let her go._

He crushed her against him unmercifully and bruised her with his mouth, wrapping his arms around her back and lifting her slightly from the floor so that she could gain no leverage to escape again.

“Charlie! What the hell?!” Evey wriggled against him so forcefully that he lost his balance and sent them both crashing into the wood paneled doorframe of the study. “Let me go!”

“No,” Charlie husked, still fighting to keep a hold of her “you’re MINE! You can’t leave me…”

He dipped his head and bit her neck, marking her as his. She yelped and writhed until he turned them both, pinioning her body against the doorframe with his own possessed, iron torso. He felt every inch of her against him, every wrinkle, every curve that he knew so intimately and had always assumed would be his forever. It trembled against him, this time not with desire but with anger and hurt and shock. Evey used her considerable strength and freed one arm while knocking him soundly in the shin with her opposite foot. He crashed down onto one knee and groaned under the burden of subduing her, but did not release her. His mouth strafed across hers again nearly drawing the life from her lungs.

“Mine!” He growled breathlessly. “You promised – always!”

Evey’s free hand rose up suddenly and slapped him hard across the face causing all struggling between the two to stop momentarily. While the blow was strong, what lingered with Charlie was the imprint that her tiny wedding band had left on his face: the band that he had given to her in love upon his return, promising that he would be all that she needed as a husband, father and friend. The dark haze that seemed to dominate him receded a bit as he reared back and looked at Evey. Her face was red with shock and fury, and tiny tendrils of her curly hair had come loose from the few pins that she used to hold it back. She was breathing hard from the struggle and her lips were swollen and deep red from his brutality. For all of the condemnation in her face, there was also curiosity and worry for him, and there was also a hint of desire hiding behind her dilated pupils. His fear curled back into itself and sunk deeper within him leaving him trembling in shame and spent energy. He hoped that she was so distracted by all he had done that she had successfully ignored his prominent hard-on that was currently digging into one of her thighs.

“Charlie?” Evey whispered tentatively, as if she was expecting another person to answer in his stead.

Charlie could do little but groan as he tried desperately to remember how to act like a normal person and how to get out of this situation without losing everything that he loved. He looked down and away from Evey, ashamed to meet her eyes but he still held her close to him. The nascent throb of a headache was pulsing in his temples. Slowly, Evey’s free hand rose up and cradled his head, leading it to rest on her narrow shoulder.

“Come back to me, baby.” She cooed as if she was lulling Clare to sleep. “I’m right here, my love. Come back from that dark place…”

“Evey…” He mumbled as if this breath was his last. “So sorry… forgive….can’t leave… please, _don’t leave_!”

“Shhhhh,” She began to rock him gently “Come back, my love. I won’t leave – I’m right here.”

“Oh, Evey…”

Charlie buried his face into Evey’s chest, and much to her escalating horror, began to weep as his fingers dug into her flesh. Something had gone very wrong deep down inside of him and it filled her with fear to see _this man_ suddenly so fragile. Was this another of those fleeting moments of dementia? Was his fear and violence real or imagined? She had never intended on leaving him – how could she when he was as much of her blood and body as she was of his? She had only wanted to take Clare up to the nursery so that they might work this issue out at whatever volume was necessary. Marital discord was one thing, but a soundly sleeping infant was nothing to be trifled with and was to be respected above all things.

Now she held and comforted a larger child, for Charlie seemed to be emotionally unraveling on the floor before her. Her mind raced to find the best, surest way to buttress his collapsing mental condition. She cooed and rocked nonsensically and slowly his tears abated and his breathing became steady once again. She had been shocked by the violence with which he had sought to subdue her, and her face flamed as the thought sparked deep within her that she had also been aroused by it. There was no deficit of passion in this marriage, which was part of what made it so precious, so dangerous and ultimately so breakable. She loved him more than she could ever express, more than was proper or healthy, and looking down at him now curled and shaking in her lap, she realized that the fear of losing him to violence was the same as his fear of losing her and Clare to the mysteries of their shared biology. They were both hoping for the same thing - they both feared the same, worst outcome – they just could not agree on a course of action. One thing became suddenly apparent to her: she would not be the tool of his undoing. She had pushed him too far and his fear had eclipsed all sense. How could she love him and cause him that kind of pain?

“Better?” She whispered finally.

Charlie’s head slowly bobbed ‘yes’ against her chest but he did not look up at her. Evey lowered her hand and raised his head up, giving him a soft, tender kiss. As she pulled back, she saw the angry, puffy rims of his eyes, his mouth drawn down and loose as if composing an expression would cost him too much energy. His eyes looked on her with sorrow and then quickly flicked away, embarrassed at what was passing between them. Using all of her strength she drew his body up against hers and kissed him forcefully that produced a nervous, rigid shock to electrify his frame. 

“I won’t leave you. You are _mine_ , do you understand? I will not let you go – not out there in the world without me, or within to that dark place.” She placed her palm flat against his chest as he stared at her in confused wonder. “You haven’t the right to go off and leave me now that you’ve claimed me. You will not leave me here alone to fritter away my days with grief. We both want the same thing, Charlie – we want more life – but the only way to get what we want is to do it together. Do you understand me?”

Once again, Charlie nodded ‘yes’ slowly. His eyes relayed relief and bewilderment, but a small, crooked smile returned to him that immediately reassured her. Evey had no idea how much she needed him to be strong for them, even if it was only another mask that he wore. She breathed out with relief and he wound his fingers through her hair, drawing her down to his mouth. The kiss was possessive but lacked the brutal violence of the previous moments. His tongue demanded entry and she relented, inwardly delighting in the surrender that he ordered from her. He raised himself over her and forced her to lie on the floor with his mouth and hands. He hungrily attacked her mouth, drawing all of her breath from her, giving in only at the last minute so that she could do nothing but gasp underneath him. His mouth trailed down her neck to where he had marked her minutes earlier and gently kissed the welt that was already rising there.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured against her throat, teeth flashing along her skin threateningly. “I want to make amends for my behavior, but the darkness is still hungry. Its needs must be met first…”

He pulled back, hovering above her, silver eyes flashing with menace that at once aroused and frightened her. He pulled at the remaining buttons on her blouse and they fell away as if held in place by cobwebs, offering up her pale bounty to his roughened hands. He stared at her with a curious expression that she could not read and then he lowered his face to her chest and took a long, meandering lick. He looked up at her suddenly, along the line of her chest and then pounced forward as she yelped in surprise. He placed the full weight of his body along her length, holding his face just inches from hers as his knee forced her thighs apart.

“Give yourself to me.” He growled as he bent close to her ear. “I want to hear you say it. Say it!”

Her breathing was coming shallow and fast as the weight of his chest constricted her own. She suddenly felt dizzy and unsure of herself – moments ago he had been weeping in her arms and she had brought him back – _what_ had she brought back? She squirmed beneath him, trying to find more space to move and instead brushing against his hardened cock, solid and pulsing into her thigh. He hissed at the touch of her and pressed down on her harder effectively paralyzing her. His hips jabbed suddenly upwards into her own as he growled and leered over her, and a traitorous rush of arousal flooded her so completely that she thought maybe he could hear it.

“Say it!” he demanded again in time with another ferocious hip jab.

“I want you!” She whispered the plead in his ear. “Take what you want from me. Banish all doubt – show me who I belong to!”

As if the words released a great beast, Charlie growled and writhed on top of her, in the end leaving another savage love bite to partner with the first. She gasped and whined as his teethed moved down her exposed chest and made little nips along the most sensitive paths. As he moved, he tore and hitched up her skirt over her waist: this was not going to be a subtle or prolonged encounter. She moaned as he nipped under the line of her milk-heavy breasts and found that, despite his brutality, her thighs had opened willingly and a fresh blush of arousal had put all of her nerve endings on high alert. Her one free hand scurried down between them and massaged his erection through his suit pants. He stopped biting and stoking her to groan and begin pulsing in her hand. Her fingers worked their magic, even restricted as they were by his clothes and position, and soon she thought that she heard a stitch or two of his inseam rip against their friction and the growing burden of its contents.

“Fuck!” he cursed quietly into her stomach.

She smiled ruefully as she realized that he did not want to swear in the presence of his daughter, still blissfully and miraculously asleep in the cradle across the room. He growled lowly and scooted up her body to face her once again.

“Damn you, woman! Unzip me or leave me be!”

She chuckled openly into his ear as she reached down with both hands and freed him from his restraints, continuing to assault him in the most loving way. He stabbed himself ruthlessly into her hands and cried out in a way that made Evey wonder if he was trying to pleasure and punish himself at the same time. 

“Are you still in control?” she trilled mockingly as he continued to grunt and move in her grip.

He cried out once, almost painfully, and then buried his face away from her in the nest of her shoulder.

“You don’t understand…” he moaned desperately, on the verge of tears again. “I’m never in control around you! My fate has always been in your hands, just as I am in… aah! your hands now. Sweet Jesus!”

Her hands were slicked with him and he was close – so close – she could tell, but his moaned confession tore out her heart. She needed his strength; she fed off it, and she had always known that she held a powerful sway over him. But, to hear it revealed so plainly, so full of need broke her down and re-forged her in an instant, making her stronger, lighter and more expansive in the dominion that she wanted to surrender to him. He was everything to her. Nothing else mattered outside of that cozy study, nothing but the sleeping miracle in the cradle and the raw, tender maleness seeking his way back into her body and soul. 

He jabbed himself into her hands over and over until his grunts became hisses of pain when she realized that he was rubbing himself sore in the process. She did not want his contrition or his subservience, she did not even want his apology, she just wanted him for life. As the word ‘life’ zipped through her mind, her aching, full breasts began to weep. She cried out against his chest as his pulsing continued, and her cleft tingled with anticipation and her milk seeped from her. She wanted a long life with him, she wanted more children, no matter what the cost, and more than anything else she wanted a promise that she would receive it even if she had to kick in the gates of Heaven to get it. 

“I want you, Charlie!” she cried into his chest “I want you, and Clare, and more – just _more!_ I’ll do whatever I need to do to get it, but you have to promise me that we’ll do it together. Whatever happens, we must always be together!”

The plea was stark and desperate and Charlie knew exactly what she _was not_ saying with it: if one died, there would be no surviving it. If need be, they would die together, and if he was going to hunt down Seven, he would have to do it _with her_. He rose up out of her shoulder and kissed her deeply, saying ‘yes’ more elementally than speech ever could, and she released him and raised her hips, finally welcoming him home. 

Despite her readiness, he whimpered in pain as he entered her, so raw was he from his self-imposed punishment. She wrapped herself around him like a warm, soft pulsing cocoon and began to rock in sync with him. He called out her name, over and over, as his lips brushed across her cheeks and eyelids and forehead. She murmured the same soft words that had brought him out of his madness minutes earlier, and he seemed to crawl in closer to her at the sound, wanting to be soothed and released at the same time. His lips drifted lower to her leaking breasts and he circled them with the tip of his tongue before lovingly sucking away errand drops that clung to her dark, erect nipples. The sensation was soothing and irritating, as she wanted to release the pressure and feed her child but more pressing impulses screamed for him to plunder her and damn the urgencies of maternal impulses. She arched her back and shifted her hips upward so that his next thrust caught them both in a shiver of ecstasy, hoping to bring him back to the matter at hand.

“Char-lie!” She moaned.

He braced himself on his elbows, bracketing her body and began to forcefully thrust into her. One of her hands went to the small of his back and rode the waves of his movements from the ebb to the rushing, lifting crest of his pelvis and hips, through the arching of his back and chest to reach high and deep into her, and receding back to begin again. His movements increased in tension and speed as his endearments devolved into feral grunts and whines of pleasure. He twisted his hips slightly and drove into her creating the perfect mixture of friction, tension, speed and pressure to cause her to twitch in the most impressive muscle spasm. He tried again and again, each time she contracted around him tighter than before as she squirmed to maneuver him more deeply into her. His arms gave way and he fell forward, his mouth beside her ear so that she could hear his labored breathing and the fundamental breaking of his barriers. His near-useless arms wrapped under her, cradling her back as his thrusts became powered by his pelvis alone and lost all rhythm in their hurried rush towards oblivion.

“Evey, my love, I can’t wait…” He husked in her ear just as he lifted them both from the floor and thrust into her one last time at a crazy angle.

She felt the waves of tension boil through him as he contracted, pushed and squeezed, finally spilling himself with a bellow that he half muffled in the tangle of her undone hair. The pressure of him inside her, the feeling of him dying, exhausting himself within her tiny frame burnished her in a glow of contentment despite her failure to meet him in his joy. He draped himself across her and she held him, stroking his scarred head as she murmured to him once again. He looked up at her blearily after a few minutes, his face exhausted but still lined with concern and questions. She kissed his forehead softly and said nothing more.

Clare had been awakened by the exertions of her father and clearly wanted Evey to comfort her as well. Evey climbed out from under the tangle of slick limbs and torn clothing on the study floor to see to her child and to her aching breasts. Clare was happy to be silenced with food and clamped onto her mother with a fierce lust for life that Evey found strangely reassuring in light of the evenings events. She looked back towards the door and Charlie’s long, tussled figure still draped across the floor. He _had_ torn his inseam, she noticed with a flush of pride.

“You’re utterly beautiful just now.” He said quietly, eyes half closed.

“In a torn blouse, a hiked skirt, and my hair swirling about me like a banshee?”

“Yes, just so.” He whispered. “Nursing our child, bringing me back from the edge of madness, and suffused with a new glow of… of purpose. You always surprise me with your personal resources, Evey. I’d be lost without you, you know.”

“And I you.” She said simply and turned away from him before he saw the tears. “We should put Clare to bed.”

Charlie rose from the floor slowly, as if drained completely and held his arm out for his wife. Evey walked over to him and allowed him to wrap an arm around both her and Clare as she led them all out of the study and up the main staircase to the second floor. It was still early, but bed seemed as good a plan as any after such an eventful evening.

Evey lingered in the nursery after leaving Charlie at the threshold to the master bedroom. She remained long after Clare had had her fill and fallen peacefully back into the deep, innocent sleep of the thoroughly sated. She stood over her sleeping daughter, stroking the light, baby hair that stood up in crazy spikes. She was all of a sudden overwhelmed by a feeling of calm, at least when it came to Clare. She never had a moment’s doubt that Clare would live a full, rich life whether she exhibited genetic traits from her father or not. She almost seemed as if she was a fairy child, or someone magically touched so that the vulgarities of human existence would just slide off her and leave her unsullied. She did not have this feeling about herself or Charlie; in fact, she was deeply worried for Charlie. But, she took solace in the fact that Clare was _absolutely fine_. She kissed her daughter good night and wandered down the hallway to her bedroom.

“Is she well?” A husky voice from the general area of the bed called out.

“She’s sleeping like, well… a baby. She made some flattering suggestions about your sexual prowess, by the way…” Evey smirked in the darkness wondering if he could see it. “How are you feeling?”

“I have a headache.”

“Oh, I’ll get the migraine meds…”

“No, no, just come to bed with me.” He whispered. “I understand that sex is good for headaches…”

His hands reached out of the darkness and scooped her up and under him into the bed. Evey let out a surprised yelp and then giggled under his feather-light kisses.

“Again? Maybe you should rest, Charlie – it’s been a stressful evening.”

“Are you saying no?” He asked after a pause of silence.

“No. I mean, no, I’m not saying ‘no’… but,”

“Quiet then, woman!” He growled playfully. “I have a ripping headache to solve, a child to impress, and a wife to satisfy. Or did you think that I didn’t notice your lack of completion during our last encounter?”

“I thought that it…it was more important for you to reaffirm what you had to… about us, than for me to … you know.” Evey said quietly and seriously in the dark.

Charlie’s hands reached around her and drew her to him. He kissed her as if she was made of priceless porcelain.

“It was. Thank you, my love.” He held her in silence for several minutes before speaking again.

“Now, about this headache…”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The morning was filled with bustling activity, as was all mornings in a household filled with people who all had pressing, separate agendas. Evey had a morning meeting, for which she was already late. Charlie had a PR event to attend prior to setting up for Eric’s televised debate later on in the day. Clare wanted food and wanted it quickly. Sera had a plan to get to the market early before all the best produce was picked over, and was working on a lunch that she had convinced Dominic to attend, for once without Evey or Charlie present!

Charlie had put the last finishing touches on his face and was searching around for his suit coat, while Sera relieved Evey of a bawling Clare and took her to another room so that the harried mom could hear herself think.

“Did you order a car, darling?” Charlie asked, at last finding his coat with a bit of spit up on it.

“Yes, but I’ll be damned if I know where’s it’s got to! This service that Eric has hired is less than predictable. The best chauffeur that I ever knew - ”

“Was me.” Charlie finished with a crooked smile. “Always on time. Always dependable. That was my motto…”

“Since when did you start having a motto?” Evey could not repress a smile, and then crinkled her nose. “Charlie, you can’t wear that. Clare has spit up on it.”

“I don’t know when she found time to do it… oh, look! There’s your car service. The guy’s waiting outside.” Charlie peered out the window at the driver and waved him to come in. The driver did not move.

Evey walked over to stand beside Charlie as he continued wiping the spit off his coat. Evey stared at the driver who merely stared back – at Charlie.

“They usually ring the bell.” Evey murmured, entranced by the uniformed driver with the large, mirrored sunglasses. “It’s overcast today…”

Charlie walked away to fetch another coat as Evey watched the driver slowly straighten himself and head towards the front steps. She breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, her paranoia had overtaken her. She was seeing threats that did not exist. If the guy had been off even slightly, Charlie would have sensed it, and there he was humming to himself while rifling through the downstairs closet. The guy was just new, obviously, and did not know protocol yet.

Evey collected her briefcase, laptop bag and various loose papers as she attempted to get organized to leave. Charlie re-emerged from the closet, triumphantly waving a clean coat in front of him.

“Now, where’s the little urchin? I had best see her off _before_ I put on my coat, yes?”

He stood before Evey in the front room and kissed her softly, before turning his head and bellowing for Sera in a manner that all men do without hesitation, no matter how irksome it seems to others. Sera made a noise that both parents assumed meant imminent arrival. Charlie looked out the front window again.

“I thought that he was coming to collect you.” He jutted his chin towards the driver who was once again leaning against his town car. “What’s wrong with him? I’ll go and have a word with him, shall I? One chauffeur to another.”

Charlie winked at Evey as he headed for the door but was stopped by a shriek from Clare upstairs. Sera stood at the top of the stairs with a writhing mass of angry baby in her hands and rolled her eyes in exasperation. Charlie made a monster’s face at his daughter and began to growl.

“Daddy’s going to go eat Mommy’s chauffeur, but when he comes back he’ll want a little Clare snack to wash it all down!”

Evey’s gaze was drawn from her family out the front window and to the driver’s mirrored sunglasses. Time seemed to slow slightly as the man smiled at her and slowly raised his hand. He waved ‘good-bye’ to her.

Evey turned and saw Charlie at the front door, his hand turning the lock. She was not sure if she screamed. No one seemed to react. Her vision narrowed and darkened as she suddenly appeared between Charlie and the door just as he opened it. The recoil whiz of a trigger being set off sliced across her brain, and she grabbed Charlie by the lapels of his coat and threw him back into the foyer and across the floor with all of her strength.

Everything went black for an instant and when she awoke again, the front of the house was gone, open to the gray November daylight. Her ears buzzed and she saw blinding flashes of light before her. Her back was on fire and when she tried to move, a searing vertical slice of pain ripped down the right side of her body. She looked down and saw that her arm was hanging at an insane angle. Blood was dripping into her eyes. She tried to speak but plaster, mortar and centuries-old brick dust coated her throat, choking her.

She tried to roll herself over, but every movement brought searing pain. She had to find Charlie! She had to find Clare! She could not lose them both, she just couldn’t! The pain blurred her vision and she felt darkness overtake her again despite her efforts to stay awake and find her family.

The world coalesced and swam around her in blobs of colour again. But this time there was sound. She felt hands on her body, supporting and cradling her.

“EVEY!” A voice screamed. _His_ voice. Thank god.

She bent all of her energy on focusing her vision, and after a few attempts, a picture slowly came into view. She was on her back in the ruined hallway close to a doorjamb that looked like it had stopped a nuclear missile. Everything around her was in pieces; the stairs to the second floor were a mere memory. Charlie’s face, bloodied and missing part of his prosthetic, loomed over her in a study of petrified fear.

“Evey! Baby, _please_!” He whispered.

“S’okay. ‘M okay…” She clearly was not, but she also felt relatively sure that whatever injuries she had were not life threatening. “Can’t feel my right arm.”

“I think that you dislocated it when you crashed into the doorjamb.”

The doorjamb? She looked again at the massive dent in the oak framing and felt impressed with herself.

“Ooooh.” She mumbled through the blood and dust. She looked around her again as Charlie gingerly helped her sit up. The stairs… the stairs were gone and the front of the house lay open. She could hear the distant sound of sirens coming closer. Good. She suddenly looked up at Charlie as if her brain had flipped a switch and her senses had come back online in an instant.

“Where’s Clare?!”


	30. Aftermath

In the silence that followed the deafening explosion, things almost seemed peaceful. Plaster dust floated through the November air like early snow blanketing the rubble in a sort of ethereal whiteness. Momentarily dazed, Evey thought that it looked like the ruin of an old church or a castle in winter – the buildings withstanding the elements, the acts of men and progress for centuries with a somber strength that lent greatness to faceless things. Distantly she was aware of pain, and sirens, and a need to move. Her fuzziness was confounding, and though she knew that she would feel better if she remained where she was, she had a driving need to feel what her mind sought to block out. Suddenly, she snapped out of her delirium and tried to launch herself to her feet.

“WHERE’S CLARE?!?” She yelled again before a slice of pain sent her crashing to her knees. Charlie’s arms caught her before she knew that she was falling.

“Evey, _please_!”

“CLARE!” She called out, ignoring him “Mommy’s coming! Mommy’s coming…”

Evey stood, with Charlie’s help, and swore as a lightening bolt shot through her right side. Once the pain eased a little, she leaned into Charlie’s sturdy frame and groaned. His heartbeat under her ear was racing and uneven; he was totally out of control.

“Clare was with Sera. They were at the top of the stairs…” His voice seemed small and distant as she followed his gaze to where the stairs to the second floor used to be. “Clare…”

“Let’s go!” Evey moved forward to tackle the mountain of rubble between her and her child, only to be cut down by pain again, falling into the sharp ends of splintered wood and bricks.

“Evey! You can’t go anywhere like this - ” Charlie’s voice was angry. “That shoulder’s dislocated.”

“Then pop it into place for me.”

“What?”

“Listen,” Evey’s voice matched Charlie’s with intolerance and urgency “I’m sure that you’ve done it before so don’t play coy. I _have_ to find Clare and I’ll be able to do that a lot faster if I’m not blacking out in pain. You can hear the sirens – the authorities will be here soon – you need to be gone before they get here and I need as few injuries for them to treat as possible. They can’t take me to the hospital and start running tests…”

“I’m not leaving.” He growled.

“Fine.” Evey rolled her eyes, knowing better than to argue now that time was collapsing around them. “Help me and we’ll leave together.”

Charlie’s face, split between his torn disguise and his scarred visage beneath, darkened as he thought. His lips thinned to a tight line as he placed his hands on her right arm.

“This is going to hurt.”

“Okay, just get on wi- ” 

She did not get a chance to finish as the suction noise of her useless arm snapping suddenly and painfully back into place took over. Pain ripped through her right side and then abruptly disappeared, leaving her sobbing and breathless against Charlie’s chest. Her shoulder felt sore and swollen but nothing compared to the pain that preceded it.

“I’m sorry.” Charlie whispered into her ear, and then his voice changed to a command. “Now, get up. Let’s move.”

He was on his feet in a moment, pulling her along after him before she had a moment to wipe the tears from her eyes. They scaled the uneven rubble quickly. Evey was surprised by her own agility and energy after being bombed across a room, but decided to stow that wonder for a later, less critical moment. The remains of the upper floor hung above them and Charlie reached up and hauled himself upwards effortlessly by two pieces of twisted rebar. He pulled Evey up by her uninjured arm and they looked at the piled remnants surrounding them. 

There was no sign of anything soft, pliable, living – nothing human remained. Everything was grey and chalky. The sirens in the distance drew closer and downstairs somewhere the sound of a wall collapsing startled them both. Panic was rising like bile in Evey’s throat; dead or alive, her child had to _be there_. But where? She was paralyzed by where to begin. Her hands shook and her heartbeat sped up to the point where she thought that she would be sick. _So much rubble. My baby is here. Under this crushing, suffocating rubble. Bruising her delicate, untouchable essence. Stealing her away from me. My baby… where’s my baby… my baby!_

A cry of horror escaped Evey, startling Charlie again, as she leaped onto the nearest pile of rubble and began frantically shifting through it with her bare hands.

“Sera! Clare! SERA!”

Charlie paused for a moment in apparent disbelief and then followed suit with another pile. Soon the ruins echoed with the sounds of their voices desperately calling out the names of the missing. It seemed as if they had been digging for hours, but it was more likely minutes, before Charlie cried out.

“Evey!”

Instantly, she was at his side as he cleared away concrete and wood from a dusty body. A thin wail rose from the body and Evey’s heart stuttered, but Charlie moved to roll the body towards him. It was Sera, limp and still, and underneath in a near perfect cocoon of safety was a balling Clare. Evey snatched her up and backed away like she had just found the Holy Grail.

“Oh, Clare! ClareClareClare… Shhhhhhh, now, Mommy’s here. You’re okay. Mommy and Daddy are here with you…” She frantically looked over her child but discovered that other than being dusty and frightened, she was fine.

Evey looked over at Charlie in a daze of joy and saw him bending over Sera, taking her pulse and testing her for injuries. A suddenly blush of shame hit her as she held Clare close to her realizing that she had not thought twice about Sera. Exalting in the return of her baby while her good friend possibly lay dying seemed heartless in the extreme.

“H-how is she?” Her voice choked as she spoke.

“She’s alive.” Charlie sighed heavily and Evey realized that he was almost as upset as he would be if they had found Clare injured. “But her pulse is weak and fast. I can’t get her to wake up and she has blood in her hair. I can’t be certain but I think that she’s broken some ribs, and her breathing’s labored; maybe she punctured a lung as well…”

He turned to her, anguish dimming his silver eyes.

“We need to get her out of here!” He hissed.

The sirens were loud now, perhaps a block away. They had no more time. Evey moved into action swiftly.

“Not ‘we’. The paramedics are almost here. Take Clare and go the Gallery. I’ll stay with Sera.”

“No!”

“Oh, for once do as I ask, Charlie! Your mask is destroyed – you can’t pass as Mac, and given your level of anxiety, no one will believe that you are just my assistant. Clare is fine and I _need_ to know that she’s safe. I _need_ to know that you’re both safe…” Her breath hitched slightly. “The police are gonna want a description of the events – Dominic is gonna DEMAND one, and Eric will go nuclear on us if I suddenly disappear now. I’ll go with Sera to the hospital – I’ll take care of her – don’t worry, I won’t let the doctors take my blood…”

The sounds of voices directing a search and rescue echoed below them, and above that, Evey could hear Dominic’s baritone poised on the edge of hysteria.

“Go! It’s the only way… Go and take care of our daughter. When it’s safe, I’ll come to the Gallery. Go NOW!”

There was no time for arguing or even a goodbye. Charlie scooped Clare out of Evey’s arms and ran for a private stairwell at the back of the townhouse. It was an aftermarket add-on that led to a series of tunnels, one of which dumped out in the underground near the Gallery. He looked back for an instant and saw Evey crouched over Sera holding a piece of shredded clothing to her head wound and talking softly. Motes of plaster dust still drifted in the air and turned everything but the dark crimson of blood into a monotone of grey. She looked like some kind of moving statuary in a palace of rubble. Only the random patches of blood gave her away as being human: fragile. He seemed torn between the object of his vision and the desire of his body, but a moment later his body won out as he clutched his baby closer and ducked into the darkness of the stairwell.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Evey stretched out on a plastic chair and searched in vain for a more comfortable sleeping position. Hospital furniture was much like hospital food and hospital décor: dismal. Totally lacking in inspiration and singularly designed to make the sick feel worse off for having been there. Evey absently wondered why people still built them the same way decade after decade. Perhaps a study should be done to see how many patients died as a result of institutional ennui – death by interior design.

As she stretched, her shoulder throbbed in opposition, and the mild burns up her back that had gone unnoticed earlier joined in the chorus. Her own head wound had been minor and she had not told the intake physician about her shoulder, but the burns were impossible to hide and the ER staff had insisted on running tests as a part of their treatment. She had gotten off with some burn ointment, gauze and a promise to return in a week (which she would decline to do in favor of the burn expert at her disposal). _And_ she had sent Dominic on a mission to destroy the blood sample that they had taken for analysis. It was handy having the police chief in on her secrets. She wondered if Charlie had been as physically sound as he had seemed at the house; in her anxiety over Clare, she had not noticed if he was injured. At the thought of him her heart ached and the invisible tether that linked them seemed to tighten and squeeze the breath from her chest. She elected to shove all thoughts of him and Clare aside for the moment and concentrate on what lay before her.

Beside her in the darkened room lay Sera, in soothing hospital blue, tied to half a dozen blinking and bleeping machines. Charlie had been right: she had broken some ribs and the doctors had had to re-inflate a lung, but the most distressing injury had been the blow to the head. It was quite serious and the doctors were unsure about the amount of internal bleeding that had occurred. Her brain was swollen and they were waiting for it to decrease and see if she would awaken on her own. Only when she was conscious would they know the extent of the damage.

Dominic had been beside himself when he found them. Even though it was his day off, his police scanner had been on and he had made it to the scene at the same time as the paramedics. It was all Evey could do to prevent him from grabbing Sera up and taking her to the hospital himself. He had not left her side since she had been checked in, and had only barked out investigation orders via his cell phone before returning to his bedside vigil. Evey was mildly stunned by his behavior. She knew that Sera fancied him a great deal, and that he had spent more time at their house that usual, but she had always assumed that Sera’s affections were one-sided. After all, they were almost never alone together, and Dominic occupied himself with Clare as often as he did with Sera. Evey was preparing for the day when she would have to console a heartbroken Sera who had finally realized that the handsome police chief only saw her as a friend. When had this intense attachment developed? And did either of them know what they were getting themselves into?

Evey absently stroked Sera’s hair and hoped that she would wake up soon. It was not just a general hope, but one born out of her desire to see Sera happy, perhaps for the first time. Waking up to the care and concern etched in Dominic’s features would fire the girl’s will to recover, Evey was certain. Love really could heal almost anything, maybe even the guilt and shame that led to Sera’s silence. Dominic’s fretting had been so disturbing that Evey had insisted that he, personally, find her blood sample and destroy it – partly to ensure that it was done, and partly to get him out of the room.

“Wake up, Sera.” Evey whispered. “Your life is waiting for you.”

“They say that the voice is the one thing that penetrates in cases such as these. She needs to know that people are waiting on her here.”

Charlie’s voice edged out from the darkness of the room’s shadows and enveloped Evey like smoke. Thinking that she was alone, she twitched at the sound of him. She stood quickly and turned, a smile starting to creep across her face, but she did not have time to move before he had swept her up into his arms and held her painfully close. He did not say anything, just held her and rocked gently. His breathing was strangely rapid, as if he was nervous, and he paused often like he was going to speak but then changed his mind and just exhaled instead. Evey melted into his iron grip hoping that the warmth of her embrace would allay the fears that he could not seem to express. After several minutes of poignant silence she eased up her grip.

“I’m fine.” She said quietly.

“I know.” His voice broke as he whispered. Another silence followed.

“Where’s Clare?”

“She’s with Eric. Don’t worry: his security team has his house locked down tight.”

“You left her with Eric?”

“She’s fine. Eric had a family once. I’m sure that even he can handle a sleeping infant for a few hours. I couldn’t wait around in the Gallery anymore – I had to know that you were okay.”

Evey smiled despite herself: the thought of Eric cooing over Clare amused her. After all, he was like her surrogate father, which would make him the closest thing to a grandfather that Clare would ever get. She looked up into Charlie’s disguised face and smiled; as always his mask was at once familiar and foreign. He smiled back at her and crushed her to him once again.

They both lost track of how long they stood there embracing quietly in the dark next to their dear friend. A sort of tangible peace emanated from them in soft waves saturating everything in the room. They alternated between staring at each other and staring at Sera, as if they could will her to wake up. In a way, it was selfish: their peace would only be complete if she recovered. It was obvious that Sera had sheltered Clare from the blast with her body, and neither Charlie nor Evey was comfortable with the safe return of their only child at the cost of their friend’s life. Some compromises are just impossible to live with.

“She will.” Charlie mused aloud suddenly.

“You think so?” Evey whispered wanting to believe him.

“Has there been any change?” It was Dominic’s anxious voice coming from the doorway.

“Not yet.” Charlie crossed the room and briefly hugged Dominic.

“Oh. Thanks.” Dom seemed a little dazed by the display. “Evey, that ‘problem’ has resolved itself…”

“Oh, thank you, Dominic. What would we do without you?”

“Well, I’m no miracle worker.” He chuckled softly. “After all, your townhouse still looks like a U.F.O. landing site…”

Charlie was about to ask about the investigation when Sera’s machines began to bleep more rapidly. One of her hands twitched and then settled as the rhythm of the machines slowed again.

“Sera?” Evey said.

No response. Dominic’s frantic look returned as he tore his eyes from Sera to Charlie and Evey.

“What does that mean?” He asked.

The machines bleeped and sped up again as all in the room froze. Charlie stepped forward and spoke clearly.

“Sera? Sera, can you hear me?” When nothing happened, he turned to Dominic. “Talk to her, Dom.”

“Uh, Sera? Sera, I’m right here. We’re all here with you. We need you to wake up, sweety…”

The machines accelerated in response and her hand twitched slightly. Instantly Dominic had it in his grasp, stroking the skin lightly.

“C’mon, sweety – give me something…” he whispered.

One finger curled slightly around his grip, it was faint but both Evey and Charlie could see it. A smile broke out across Dominic’s face and he raised Sera’s hand to his lips and gave it a small kiss.

“Good girl. That was great.” He turned to face the others, mania bringing a flush to his cheeks. “Wasn’t that great?”

“Keep talking to her, Dom. She needs you – needs to hear you…” Charlie said.

Dominic continued to babble quietly to Sera as Charlie drew Evey close and edged out of the room. Evey was not sure, but as she reached the threshold she thought that she heard a voice, soft and delicate as a bird’s wing, utter a single syllable: Dom.

“Miracle worker indeed.” She said under her breath before they disappeared down the hallway.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It’s the only logical conclusion.” Evey spoke suddenly and Charlie was not convinced that she was speaking to him although he was the only other person present.

“What is?” He whispered into her wet hair.

The past two days had been hectic and exhausting. Evey and Charlie were newly installed in a suite at the Savoy pending repairs made to the townhouse. Dominic’s investigators had found proof of what everyone knew already: a bomb had been set at the front entryway and was triggered by the door opening. It had to have been planted between 7 and 8:30a.m. as Charlie had picked up the paper on the stoop earlier that morning and had noticed nothing. The bomb was homemade from everyday materials much like V would have made back in the day – so, impossible to trace. But the most important revelation was that the bomb would have been sizable; visible to any who approached the doorway. Like the chauffer. 

“The driver was the bomber. It was _him_.” She said grimly.

Charlie had contacted Sidney who had done some discreet investigating of her own. She had found out that the driver assigned to Evey by Eric’s service that day had mysteriously called in sick at the last moment. But the illness had not been severe enough to prevent him from wandering out and getting beaten to death on the other side of London on the _same day_. The whole scenario screamed of last minute planning, and it made them both wonder the obvious question: why now?

“Well, of course the driver was the bomber, my love. Who else could it have been?” Charlie was wary of jumping to the conclusion that had been floating around his head since Sidney had given him her information.

“No, I mean, it was Seven.” Evey said coldly. “It had to be. Tell me that you haven’t come to the same conclusion?”

Evey turned in his arms to face him rippling the bathwater as she moved. Her dark eyes had a stoniness to them which he knew from experience meant that she had made up her mind about something. He looked her over, appraising her fragile features noting that the bruising of her right shoulder had faded considerably and the burn marks on her back were already covered over with scar tissue. She healed almost as fast as he did and only after seeing this did he agree to a bath. She was stronger than she seemed and he was seeing this strength now as it belied her small delicateness. He smiled sadly and tucked a long wet strand of hair behind her ear: yes, he had come to exactly the same conclusion, as well as others that he elected not to share with her.

“You still don’t believe in coincidence, do you?” Evey leaned in and fixed his silver eyes with her hazel ones.

“There is no coincidence.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly. “For better, or for worse.”

Evey blushed suddenly and Charlie smiled realizing that she had picked up on his reference to finding her in an alley years before. He knew what she would ask of him and he did not want to lie to her. She would suggest that they avoid Seven, avoid a fight altogether in order to remain safe, and he had no intention of giving the man who attempted to murder his entire family a pass. But still, he did not want to worry his wife or to turn this moment into another brutal argument like the one that they had had last time. He was eager to distract her from the subject knowing that he would exterminate his enemy efficiently and Evey need never know of the danger involved. He smiled devilishly and reached down to cup her bare buttocks in his hands and raised her up along his torso, sloshing water here and there. Her full breasts pressed against his chest just below the water’s surface and he was momentarily mesmerized by the contrast of her dark areoles against her pale skin.

“Don’t try and distract me, demon.” Her breath came short as she saw the sudden hunger in his eyes. “Hold on, I have something to ask of you.”

Determined in his quest for peace, Charlie dipped his head into the crook of her neck and lightly bit it along the artery. Evey quivered shamelessly as she always did; it was usually enough to stop her in her tracks.

“Beast!” Evey mumbled unconvincingly. “Stop it! I’m trying to talk to you…”

“Later.” He said as he caught her lower lip in his teeth and one of his hands squirmed to get between her thighs. “I have a craving just now.”

“Charlie!” She gasped as she forcefully pulled away from him. “Seriously! I need you to listen – it’s about Seven…”

Here it came. Anxiety tightened in his chest as he remembered the last conversation that they had had about Seven. He wanted to appease his wife but he also could not allow Seven to continue threatening his family. He would rather kill them all than to see one of them fall. He understood Evey’s fears, better than she realized, but when the fear could be eliminated entirely, the danger was acceptable. He could learn to live without the biological answers that he might have gleaned from Seven if it meant that his family would remain safe. It was a trade-off that he was grudgingly prepared to accept.

Evey sat up straight placing her upper torso entirely out of the bathwater. She crossed her arms across her breasts as an afterthought, perhaps thinking that they might distract him as she spoke.

“When you go to kill Seven, I want you to take me along.” She said firmly.

“Pardon?” That was unexpected.

“You’re going to kill Seven. You wouldn’t stand by and let him live after what he’s done – I felt your fear that day, Charlie, and I _know_ what you’ll do with it. If you don’t kill him, I will. We have a better shot if we both go.”

“What?” Charlie breathed, momentarily speechless. “No, absolutely not! I’m not allowing you anywhere _near_ that bastard!”

“He tried to kill my baby.” She murmured. “You have no idea how much I need to see him dead…”

“I have some.” Charlie replied icily.

Evey looked at him intently. She leaned in placed her hands on his chest, bringing her face just inches from his. She felt his heartbeat hammering in his chest, saw the cool methodicalness settle across his scarred features, and felt the hardening of his body beneath her.

“Then how can you deny me?” She whispered. “I’m almost as fast, strong and hardy as you are now. You’ve taught me to fight and I read you better than anyone. And my motives are just as strong as yours. Can you imagine a better partner for such a task? He won’t be easy to kill…”

“No. If… if you were killed…” Charlie broke off and quickly turned away from her, his whole body vibrating causing the bathwater to ripple out from him. “What about Clare? Think of her.”

“I am, and so are you. Women who avoid conflicts can still be casualties. If he should get past you -” She paused for a second. “I’d still have to face him, though God knows he’d have the upper hand fighting someone who had already been broken… No. We have a better chance against him together, away from Clare, Sera and the authorities.”

Charlie reached forward and grabbed Evey’s face with both hands and pulled her roughly to him.

“Evey, this is so unspeakably rash and dangerous of you!” His voice was enraged but his body gave him away telling her how much he wanted her to be there at the end with him.

“I can take it. Say yes.” 

Charlie held her fast and glared at her. He was absolutely livid at the idea of her following him into this battle, but she would do it with or without his blessing. And she was right: she would be a suitable partner for him if it weren’t for the fact that he would be worried out of his mind for her the whole time. She had just as much cause to kill Seven as he did, and he had promised to deal with the Seven situation _with her_ … The only thing that they did agree on was that they were better together than apart. In a way, he had no choice in the matter.

“Yes.” He growled through gritted teeth. “But I hate you for wanting this. You’re killing me.”

Evey smiled and laid herself along the length of him, pressing her luck with his arousal as well as with his anger. She pushed her way into his mouth and cleared his mind of any rational thoughts for a good two minutes before releasing him. 

“I’m not killing you. I have much nicer plans in store than that.” She purred while she tickled his ruined ear with her tongue.

“Hmmm. Who’s the demon now, huh?” He growled halfway between rage and adoration. “You must promise me to be careful at all costs, Evey.”

His serious tone drew her up and she leaned her chin on his scarred chest giving him the same stare that she had when she promised always to be his and when she had eased him back from his dementia. It was more than a promise, it was a vow. 

“I swear to you. It’s together or nothing, that includes avoiding death.”

“Evey?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m holding you to that.” He whispered.

“I know.”

The moment hung there between them like a water droplet on the brink of freefall. With a crystalline, imperceptible ping, it broke free and fell over them rippling the promise out and over them, increasing in meaning with each subsequent wave. Charlie sighed knowing that he could extract nothing more from her than that. He kissed her cheeks, her eyes, her forehead and her mouth in a sort of reverence for that moment.

“Evey?” He said finally.

“Umm-hmm?”

“I have an urgent need to _have_ you this instant.” He said plainly. “I wasn’t kidding about that craving earlier…”

“Well, I don’t know… I’ve got a lot of things to do today… and the baby will be up soon…” She mocked.

“Saucy wench! That was a statement, not a request!” He growled through his crooked smile as his fingers dug into the flesh of her hips.

“Ouch! Filthy demon! No manners at all… you can get more flies with honey, you know.”

“Ah, yes, _honey_. I know where I can find some…” He chuckled and buried his hand between her legs, slowly tickling her thighs apart. “I can be quite sweet if I so choose.”

Evey gasped and surrendered to his attentions, leaning her head against his chest as he purred with excitement.

“Yes, you can be such a sweet devil when you try, darling.”


	31. A No-Lone Area part I

“Its not uncouth, darling, it’s a _tool_ , and a very effective one at that!”

Evey cocked her hip and huffed at his unreasonability on the subject of firearms. He had been drilling her for ages over hand-to-hand techniques, knife play, and flight/evasion tactics but still he would not allow her to teach him to shoot.

“I’m starting to think that this is an ego issue with you…”

“I can’t imagine to what you are referring.” Charlie murmured, non-plussed.

“Guns. You told me that you don’t like them because they allow you to kill from a distance in a detached sort of way; its impersonal. But I actually think that you can’t stand to have me teach you _anything_ , or to discover that there’s something that you can’t master.”

“What a ludicrous notion, woman.”

“Which part? The Evey-as-teacher bit or the Charlie-master-of-the-universe bit?”

He stood rooted to the floor and issued forth the most condescending stare she had ever seen from him. And she had seen plenty, which suddenly annoyed her more than it should.

“Charlie,” Evey softened her tone “This thing that we are doing – this killing that we must do – I don’t care how it’s done. I don’t care if the act has honor in it or not. He tried to kill you, kill my baby…”

Charlie remained frozen beside her and did not say anything.

“My family ranks higher than honor any day of the week. If shooting Seven achieves our goal and keeps us all safely _at a distance_ , then I’ll take that. And so should you.”

She half turned to face him and thrust the grip of her very unfeminine Desert Eagle semi-automatic at him pointedly. They stood alone at the firing range that Dominic had first taken Evey to when she asked him to teach her to shoot. Guns were still taboo in the U.K. but like other parts of the world, there was a healthy black market trade in them. And a few people, like Evey, held licenses as sport marksmen even though that was a ruse to get around the law. 

But the gun wasn’t what they were really quibbling over. It was nearly the end of February; Seven’s bombing had been 4 months ago and Charlie still felt that they were “unprepared” to face him. Evey wondered why he was stalling for time now when previously he had been more than eager to seek Seven out for his own reasons. Her inner voice whispered that it was because he did not trust her fully as a partner in this. He was hoping that she would lose interest and leave him to deal with it in his own way. She shook off the creeping doubt seeing it for what it was: her own insecurity. The doubt twisted and bloomed into a wave of nausea that suddenly left her gasping. She turned her head away from him to mask it as it rippled across her features.

_We have to do this soon. I won’t be able to wait much longer…_

“Quit procrastinating and get on with it.” She bit back the bile in her throat and croaked out the command with a bitterness that she had not intended.

After a moment, she felt the gun leave her hand as he moved towards the firing position in the stance that she had described to him. He did not say a word but merely waited for her to correct his form and instruct him further. She adjusted his grip, told him how to follow the sight with his leading eye but to keep both eyes open, and she told him to prepare and compensate for the gun’s kick. He pulled back on the trigger too sharply setting his aim off. His mouth thinned and squirmed in distaste at the results.

“You’re being too rough with her.” Evey offered as she came up behind him and overlaid his arms and hands with her own. “She’s a tool but you have to love her a little too, Charlie. Think about how you feel with one of your blades in your hand before you throw it into the heart of your enemy…”

Her voice thrummed through her and into him. She felt the tension in his shoulders and forearms ease slightly as she spoke to him on his level. Or maybe it was her nearness to him, she wasn’t sure. Secretly, she breathed him in for a moment; the unique alchemy of leather, sandalwood and some unidentifiable ‘other’ that she nevertheless thought of as _him_. She became aware of their meeting places at the touch points: her chest to his back, her chin against his shoulder blade, her fingers covering his on the grip and trigger. She realized that she no longer noticed a temperature difference between them. He always seemed to run a little hot in her experience, but now they were the same. Similarly she healed up from injuries with alarming speed and had not been ill since she was pregnant with Clare. She even found herself sleeping less – not out of stress or insomnia but simply because she no longer felt that she needed a full 8 hours a night.

The conclusion that she drew was that she was becoming _like him_ at a disturbing rate. Whereas his metamorphosis took 20 years, hers had taken a year. The inner whisperings started up again, noting the findings of Sidney’s researchers and, more importantly, what their reports _didn’t_ say: Charlie was one of a kind, an anomaly. Even Seven was not entirely like him, and only they two out of all the test subjects had survived the process for any length of time.

“Squeeze the trigger gently. She’s powerful enough, you don’t need to force it.” Evey’s trigger finger pushed down on Charlie’s and the Desert Eagle went to work. This time the bullet hit the paper target in the shoulder.

 _You’re not going to make it_ , her inner voice sang without concern.

“There, see? She’ll take care of you if you treat her right.” Evey fought back a simultaneous wave of panic and nausea focusing instead on her lesson.

 _I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse and there’s more than just me to think on now…_ she chided her little ghost.

All this time Charlie remained silent yet pliable. This had been his mood lately. At first it concerned her until she realized that he had been having secret meetings with Sidney. Since a romantic relationship was out of the question, it seemed to Evey that he and Sidney were hunting down Seven together. He had probably hit pay dirt about 2 months ago when his brooding began. He was plotting, and perhaps trying to find a way to keep her out of it. It was difficult not to see this isolation as a slight but she mentally shook it off. Now, more than ever, Evey felt the urgency to act. Delaying further would weaken their position and strengthen Seven’s – surely Charlie saw this.

_And you don’t have time to waste…_

“If you are at a distance, a headshot is harder so aim for the torso instead.” Evey took the gun from Charlie’s grip and squeezed off a shot that pierced the target directly in the heart. She felt his eyes on her – silent, watchful. “If you are closer,” Evey adjusted the range of the target bringing it closer by pushing a button on the wall beside her. “If there is no doubt of your aim, a headshot will end it.”

Evey squeezed off another shot this time into the head of the fluttering target.

“But most importantly,” she flashed him a quick glance and was shocked by the quiet worry etched into his face. “Be certain that he won’t get back up.”

With military precision, she shot twice into the sternum area followed by a kill shot to the head. The headshot didn’t even mar the paper, going through the hole that she had previously made. The nausea returned in an insistent wave and she clumsily slammed the gun down on the shelf in front of them. She had to take care of this…

“Practice. You never know: one day this gun might save your life.”

Evey turned quickly without looking at him and left the range floor to find a bathroom. When he was alone, Charlie’s whole body sagged as he stared down at the foreboding handgun.

“I guess its time, then…” he mumbled to himself as he reached for the weapon and summoned up a fresh target from the back of the range.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Evey had been stuck in various meetings all day. She had been remarkably unproductive and had been fighting off exhaustion and ill ease for most of the afternoon.

 _You should probably consider eating more than just coffee and a crumpet too…_ She privately wondered why her inner voice had to be so sarcastic all the time.

Charlie, in his Mac incarnation, had sat through the morning meetings but excused himself during the break for ‘administrative duties’. She had caught his eye more than once as he watched her warily from the opposite end of the conference room, his disguise not hiding the concern set in his posture and his eyes. _What was he planning? Why won’t he tell me_ , she thought. His silence was infuriating. She tried to call upon the invisible thread that bound them – to give it a sound tug and remind him of their connection – but he seemed unaware of her efforts. She shook her head gently at her own foolishness. She had to talk to him plainly just like other people did, there was nothing supernatural about them…

 _He knows._ The thought suddenly bloomed in her mind.

_No, he doesn’t. He wouldn’t keep quiet if he did. Besides, I only found out myself a month ago…_

_He knows._ The voice was calm yet certain. _He watches you all the time. He sees it._

The nausea returned as if called by name and she rose swiftly to flee to the executive bathroom down the hall. She locked the door and managed to crash into a stall on her knees before heaving up the bile that stung her throat. _Traitorous body!_ After a few more false alarms she leaned her forehead against the stall door and just focused on breathing. The urgency to finish the Seven business came to the forefront of her mind again. She could not concentrate on anything else until it was done.

When her phone rang in her pocket she nearly jumped to her feet. Call display sent a shiver down her spine.

“It’s me.” Charlie’s baritone rumbled as she accepted the call. “Where are you?”

“Hi. Just taking a quick break.” She tried to smooth out a voice made rough by stomach acid. “What’s up?”

“It’s time, Evey. I have a location.” He whispered cautiously. “We do it tonight.”

“Oh.” Evey’s stomach was in riot again. “Is it certain?”

There was a short delay on the line. “Our ruthless mutual friend seems to think so. I agree.” Another delay. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll be ready.” She hoped that her tone sounded confident. She needed him to believe in her.

“I need to gather some supplies. Come to the place where we first met at 10p.m. Do you remember it?”

The alley where he saved her life? How could he think that she would ever forget it?

“Of course. 10p.m. What about Clare - ”

“I have already said goodbye.” He interrupted her roughly. Her stomach dropped. “See you later.”

He rang off without waiting for her reply. She stared at the phone in her hand and started to shake. Suddenly, her stomach lurched and she spun around to dry heave once again, slamming her fist against the bowl in frustration as she did so.

_Pull yourself together! This is what you wanted, isn’t it?_

“Yes, it is.” She rasped aloud trying to focus on the burn of acid on the back of her throat instead of the sting of Charlie’s abruptness.

After a time she crawled out of the stall and leaned over the sink, alternately splashing water on her flushed face and watching the water circle the drain meditatively. Slowly, her stomach subsided. She looked up into the mirror and was shocked by her drawn, pale appearance. No wonder why he was always looking at her – she was a wreck. But her eyes still glinted with purpose. She knew what to do now; she had direction and knowledge. She would not allow fear to rule this encounter. She straightened and fixed her reflection with her most determined, confident look. Unconsciously, her hand settled over her abdomen.

“Give me tonight and you can run the show from here on out. I can’t fail him. I’ll submit to whatever you send my way… afterwards. But tonight, I need my whole self, understand?”

Evey nodded to her reflection and then turned on her heel and walked towards the door. Unsure of whom she was just speaking to, or whether they agreed to the terms of her bargain, she took a deep breath and stepped forward to meet the night ahead.


	32. A No-Lone Area part II

Evey raced through the streets of London, clinging to the shadows and trying to forget the last look she saw on Clare’s face. Her daughter’s wide dark eyes and tiny bow mouth were poised in an unasked question as Evey showered her with butterfly kisses and turned away before her tears became noticeable. Similarly, she had avoided Sera’s gaze as well knowing that she could not withstand the worry and judgment there. There never seemed to be enough time and Evey felt terribly selfish. She never paid enough attention to those she cared for most, instead being swept away by things that felt monstrously out of her control. If tonight were to be the last time that she saw either her daughter or her dear friend, would either of them understand how much she loved them?

A tear streaked across her cheek at the thought and she quickly brushed it away with a gloved hand. The necessary arrangements had been made: Sera and Eric would stand as Clare’s legal guardians should she die. Of course, Clare would still have one parent – Charlie – but only Sera would know that and she would have to _seem_ to be Clare’s sole provider. And if worst came to worst and Charlie were to die… the thought alone quaked her stomach so she put it aside… no doubt Dominic would step in and become a de facto daddy. Sera and Dom had half adopted Clare already in their attempt to play house. It was clear to Evey that their relationship was intense and proceeding at a fair clip, but neither Dom nor Sera had told her anything so it was all speculation on Evey’s part. Once again the sorrow at being too self-involved overwhelmed her. She silently swore to herself that if she made it through tonight she would be there for Sera. She would spend more time with her angelic daughter – it was wrong to turn away from such riches.

The February night air sliced through her lungs in painful gasps. She was running – not in flight, but with purpose trying to loosen up for what was to come. With each snowy footfall she felt the solidness of the two guns holstered at her back. She almost felt that she could sense the fully loaded clips within them. It reassured her almost as much as the running did. Her body had apparently agreed to their bargain and she used the full length and stamina of her frame with ease. There was a fleeting sense of freedom in the long shadows of the London night. Dressed in black, she felt a part of the night itself and let go of the caution that she lived her daytime hours by: there was no one around to witness her extraordinariness and she could indulge it with impunity. None of the sleeping occupants of the tenements that she ghosted past would wake in the morning and know that something _other_ had been so close to them. They would not shiver in the chilly dawn knowing that she had passed through on her way to a killing…

Finally, she reached the mouth of that long-ago alley. It had been many years since she had purposefully sought it out. In the early years following V’s ‘death’ she had come here many times to find meaning in their time together, little had she known that the man who drove her there was seeking out the same meaning. _He was always there_ Evey shook her head as she thought it, _How could I not have seen him?_

Evey quickly padded into the alley and hid in the shadows where the deed had been done all of those years ago. She remembered the strange introduction between them over the corpses of dead Fingermen. She remembered his exuberance and his odd, manic giggling. She remembered thinking _I must be insane to trust him_ as she took his outstretched hand and he led her to the rooftops. A smile curled her lips at the memories, memories that led to many others which both attracted and repelled her with equal ferocity. 

“There is no such thing as coincidence.” She murmured softly while stamping her feet to forestall the creeping chill.

“No, there isn’t.”

His deep whisper came from behind her where she thought there had only been the alley wall. She turned to face him as he caught her by the waist and kissed her deeply. He seemed to wrap himself around her so that she could no longer distinguish between him and the alley surrounding them. The snow continued to fall in silence while they burned together in the darkness. At length, Evey pulled away with a gasp though Charlie seemed happy to kiss the life out of her. His hand reached for her neck and drew her forward until their foreheads rested against one another. She noticed that he was not wearing gloves and felt the cool zing of his wedding band glide along her cheekbone.

“Husband.” 

Flecks of silver flashed briefly in the gloom above her and she felt his lips again, but this time tender and lingering.

“I wish that you would reconsider this, Evey.” He spoke after he regained his composure. “Let me deal with him…”

“Is it because you don’t trust me?” she blurted.

“How could you think that? I’ve trusted you with everything.”

“You trust me with knowledge, but do you trust my skills – like I trust yours?”

He took her face in both hands and bent so that they were eye to eye.

“You are the only person that I trust completely.” He sighed. “I don’t want you there because I want to protect you, as much as I did when we first met. You looked on me with such awe and belief then…”

“I’m still in awe of you,” she added quickly “just for different reasons now. You don’t really want me to be that frightened girl again, do you?”

“No.” He kissed her again. “But I would give anything to keep the things from you that have hurt you over the years, Evey. I have failed in that regard so many times…”

“Nonsense. We are the architects of our own, stupid lives, Charlie – you are not responsible for me. You saved me, you loved me, you shared your life with me… what more could I ask than that?”

“Everything.” His arms wrapped around her waist and hoisted her up his torso until she reached his lips. “Ask everything of me.”

He pushed them back against the alley wall and buried his face in her cowled neck trying to suck and bite through the fabric. She hooked her legs around his waist and felt the familiar pull of her core opening up to him. She shook her head and fought the softening of all of her hard-won edges – they had work to do, and as much as she _always_ wanted him, nothing could continue until their mission was accomplished. Anything else was denial.

“We have to go.” She breathed without much conviction.

“I know.” Her clothes muffled his voice; his hands still squeezing, caressing and molding to her.

“Please, baby, don’t make this harder than it has to be…” Evey’s stomach clenched reflexively but she refused to give in to her body’s frailty tonight. “I’m scared enough as it is.”

He backed away slowly and gave her room to stand on her own. He took her gloved hand in his naked one.

“I will die for you.”

“Well, let’s hope not, okay?” She smiled at him nervously. “And speaking of ‘not dying’ – I have something for you.”

Evey reached behind her and unhooked one of her gun holsters. She clipped it swiftly into place on his right hip. He looked at the gift with a distinctly ungrateful stare, but when he returned her glance there was something close to appreciation in his eyes.

“It’s the one that you practiced with at the range so it will be familiar should you have to use it. Remember what I said, Charlie, I don’t care how it gets done so long as those I love are finally safe.”

“If it were done, when t’is done, then t’were well it were done quickly.” Charlie intoned ominously.

“Right. Just keep thinking that.” Evey whispered quickly, looking around her. “Now lead on, McDuff…”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

_Can you hear me now?_

The comm. unit nestled in her ear whispered. Evey rolled her eyes at the phrase.

“Yes, it’s working well.”

The small voice transceiver under her cowl at her throat picked up even the slightest murmur and delivered it clearly to Charlie’s earpiece. The comm. paraphernalia were gifts from an enthusiastic Sidney whom, according to Charlie, nearly had to be restrained from accompanying them this evening. Evey smiled ruefully at the mental image of Sidney bound and gagged in her hotel room – no matter how much she helped them or how much Charlie appreciated her, Evey was never going to like Sidney. It was a bitch thing. 

Charlie had taken Evey to the factory district where the Valkyrie Press had once stood. According to Sidney’s intel, Seven was occupying the warehouse across the street from the burnt out hulk of twisted steel and concrete that Charlie had destroyed no so long before. The site of it and the lingering smell of charcoal in the air made Evey’s skin crawl, like looking on the rotted corpse of someone you murdered. The buildings in this area of town were mostly abandoned or available for lease, so at this time of night it was a virtual ghost town. Whatever happened here tonight, no one would know about it until long after it was over.

Seven’s grand plan wasn’t apparent to either Sidney or Charlie based on what they could dig up on him, but what was apparent was that he had followers. A thermal sweep of the building – the unit was another gift from Sidney – indicated 13 live bodies, 7 on the main floor and 6 on the upper level. They were no doubt armed but the contingent seemed light as far as protective details went. The warehouse space was huge and the guards were spread thin across it. Charlie surmised that Seven was expecting them, sooner or later, and had set up a little training exercise – a roadblock that they had to solve in order to get to him. It told them a lot about him; he was arrogant, confident, and unafraid of conflict.

 _“It’s important to understand this about him should we have to interact with Seven.”_ Charlie warned. _“We have no power over him, nothing to threaten or negotiate with… he holds all the cards in this game and if he decides that he no longer enjoys playing it, he won’t hesitate to end it. However, his confidence could provide us with a small advantage: he might let his guard down.”_

“All I need is one shot…” Evey murmured into her mic. She did not intend to start a conversation with the monster.

They split up and flanked the heat signatures on the ground floor. Charlie encountered the first man – Evey could hear his accelerated breathing over the mic – but his old knife skills served him well as he silently dispatched the man.

 _One_ was all he said. Evey imagined one of the heat signatures slowly fade from view as his blood drained from his body onto the warehouse floor. 

Evey’s vision sharpened as she noticed a small flare of orange off to her left: a cigarette tip as the smoker took a draw from it. A stupid tell, Evey thought as she padded silently through the shadows of the warehouse beams until she had circled around behind the guard. He heard and saw nothing the moment before she sliced his throat and gently eased his body to the floor at her feet.

“Two.” She murmured and moved further into the interior of the warehouse.

Moving like wraiths, they quickly eliminated the guards that were stupid enough to be caught in shadowed corners on their own. With each silent death, one or the other whispered the count into their mic and then moved on granting no more than a single word epitaph for their victims. Charlie took out two guards with barely a hitch in his breathing as they cleared the first floor.

 _Five and Six._ he murmured.

“Show off.” Evey smiled as she heard low feedback over her comm., which she took to be Charlie chuckling.

She caught guard #7 in the stairwell as she climbed to the second floor. He came upon her suddenly and she didn’t have time for her blade so she shattered his kneecap with a forceful kick and then broken his nose with the heel of her hand when he fell to her level. The force of the blow drove cartilage into his forebrain, killing him before his body slumped to the floor. The scuffle brought two more guards into the secluded stairwell but Evey was ready, silencing one with a blow to his larynx that gave her time to dispatch his partner. As she returned to the mute guard and mercifully snapped his neck, she whispered, “Seven, Eight and Nine” into her comm. 

_Now who’s showing off?_ She wasn’t certain but she thought that she caught a hint of admiration in his tone.

Charlie caught up with guard #10 and Evey made a ¾ circuit of the upper floor before she found and eliminated #11, but try as she might, she could not find the last guard. She retraced her steps in case someone was shadowing her. She mentally re-tallied their kills. Could they have miscounted the heat signatures? Minutes ticked by with nothing to show for it save silence and the eerie feeling of being watched.

“Twelve?” She breathed into her mic.  
 _Not yet._

The warehouse was expansive and the only sign of life came from a weak light at the far end of the second level. The light was an obvious signpost for their benefit courtesy of Seven; it said _this is where it’s gonna go down – if you can get here_. Evey didn’t like it and it proved Charlie’s theory about Seven’s arrogance. It worried her that Seven felt so supremely comfortable whilst being hunted.

From the far side of the warehouse floor Evey saw a shiver of movement, grey on grey. It was so fast that she knew it to be Charlie instantly. His breathing over the comm. unit was sure and calm. He made a semi circle around the pool of orange light that highlighted a battered desk, chair and the indigo silhouette of the figure staring out of the grimy industrial sized windows to the street below.

Seven.

Charlie seemed to be scouting, trying to find the perfect spot – but for what, Evey wasn’t sure. She remained alert and in the shadows desperately trying to catch a glimpse of the twelfth guard. She was very uncomfortable with either one of them making a move against Seven so long as he potentially had back-up that could come to his aid. While she knew that Charlie was aware of the missing twelfth guard, he appeared to be preparing to confront Seven anyway; an action that was not only against everything that he had taught Evey about combat tactics but also flew in the face of the plan that he and Evey had discussed for the evening.

 _Stubborn, crazy, loner wanker!_ , Evey thought to herself as she quickly sought out a suitable shooting position. If Charlie was going to offer himself up to Seven, for whatever reason, she would be is back-up and would put a bullet between Seven’s eyes at the earliest opportunity.

Evey quickly spied a solid looking foot walk that ran at a tangent to the warehouse windows. She climbed her way up as quietly as possible and found a good angle to settle into. Lying across the walkway on her stomach, she slid her Desert Eagle from its holster and eyed the sightlines on its barrel. They were perfect and the gun’s weight in her hand felt natural. She marked her target in the half-light reflected from the street and the one naked bulb illuminating the space, and then frowned. The space was too open and the foot walk was quite a ways from the pool of light and its occupant. She calculated that it was at the outer edge of a handgun’s range. There was nothing closer that offered her an elevation or cover. Her aim would have to be spot on, especially in the warehouse’s gloom; there would be no second chances with this one.

 _No pressure. None at all._ Her sarcastic inner pal was back and with those words her stomach lurched into her throat. _No! Not tonight. Remember our deal._ she admonished as she breathed in and out deeply to center herself.

“You can do this, Hammond.” She whispered aloud without thinking.

 _Evey?_ Charlie’s whisper crackled across her nerves letting her know just how keyed up she was.

“It’s okay.” She murmured. “Status?”

A moment of silence passed and Evey wondered if the comm. unit had failed. _Are you certain?_ he whispered back.

“Positive. I have your back.” She tried to whisper with authority. “Status?”

There was another pause and then just the sound of Charlie’s resumed, measured breathing. Evey felt a shiver run down her spine and _knew_ that he had made his mind up about something and had decided to act alone.

 _No! Stop him!_ her mind yelled.

“Charlie, what’s your status?” She hissed into her mic.

Nothing but dead air greeted her. She didn’t even hear his breathing anymore.

_He turned his unit off. That’s what you get for hitching your wagon to a crazed loner vigilante type with a protector complex… the only thing predictable about him is his unpredictability._

Evey shook her head violently in an effort to quiet her damned sarcastic mental chorus. She refrained from slamming her fist into the metal walkway in frustration but her heart raced beyond her control and the dark, thin trickle of fear seeped its way into her. Her mind suddenly started to spool out doomed scenarios at an alarming rate as she tried to focus on this solution or that one which always slipped away from her. _Too much to lose. Everything to lose…_ her mind babbled as a sudden new wave of panic gripped her and forced tears to blur her vision. She shook her head again and swallowed hard against the bile that flooded her mouth. _Not… NOW!_ some wild thing in her screamed and she brushed the tears from her eyes with a shaking hand.

Evey blinked and saw a silhouette edge it’s way near the outer ring of light on the warehouse floor. The figure at the window had not moved and remained still, arms crossed and facing the street. The shadow moved swiftly towards its prey, a thin reflection off of the object in its hands told her that it was armed with a knife.

“Godammit, Charlie!” she hissed into her mic as loudly as she dared while tracing the figure’s path with her gun site “We don’t know where the last guard is! Charlie? Charlie! Just _shoot him_! Don’t get close – it’s probably a trap! He _can hear you coming_ …”

“No he can’t.” A confident voice boomed from behind her.

Evey rolled on her stomach swinging her Desert Eagle around and firing into the shadowed figure behind her but hit only air. The shadow seemed to disappear and then recombine crouching to her left. A fist whipped out of the darkness and suddenly all Evey could see were stars as the taste of her own blood filled her mouth.

“He can’t hear Five, but I certainly can.” The shadow stood over her once more but Evey didn’t see him as she fell into the stars behind her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “If it were done, when t’is done, then t’were well it were done quickly.” - Macbeth, Act I, Scene vii.


	33. A Cold and Broken Hallelujah

Evey swam comfortably in darkness. Something unpleasant pricked at the edges of her mind but it was too indistinct and she let it go with relief. There was something that she was supposed to be doing – it was important – but she couldn’t remember what it was. Floating in the warm, still blackness seemed like a really good alternative.

_Mommy?_

“Clare?”

_Mommy, time to wake up…_

“Where are you, pumpkin? Let me see you.”

 _Time to open your eyes, Mommy._ Her little voice sounded like tinkling bells.  
 _Daddy needs you._

“Daddy needs me for what, angel?”

_Mommy… **WAKE UP!!!!**_

Clare’s voice transmuted into an earsplitting scream and suddenly the warm darkness was ripped away replaced by blinding light and airlessness. Evey thrashed and tried to reach her throat, her eyes blinking against the glare that seemed to come from inside her eyelids. Something squeezed her throat tighter and the whiteness became scorching hot. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing, not even a hiss, came out. Her fingers scrabbled against the bands around her neck. Was she being hung? Her thrashing toes, pointed in a spasm of desperation, brushed a flat surface beneath her. Something held her aloft by her neck. _Hung, then_ her mind concluded in an oddly clear way for someone on the verge of dying. Black dots pimpled the blinding light at the edges of her vision, growing larger with each passing second. _Oh dear_ was the only thing that she could think as the blackness threatened to consume her for good.

Then, as quickly as she had reconciled herself to the end, a rush of air entered her scorched lungs and she hit the hard surface below her face first. Her oxygen-deprived skull rang like a church bell. She gasped and curled into herself coughing and scrabbling along the floor blindly. She became aware of voices above her. She gasped down hungry mouthfuls of air and slowly her vision began to distinguish shadows in the darkness. One stood over her; legs spread wide, arms crossed. Another stood at a distance just beyond a dark pool and a humped figure at the center of it. Weak light made the pool crimson and highlighted a thin line of silver in the distant figure’s grasp.

“That should do at present.” The voice came from above and seemed directed at her. Its tone was cool, controlled and devoid of feeling. “Still need you for a while longer. Don’t we, Five?”

Evey rolled to her side and spat up some blood, then saw that the distant figure wasn’t distant anymore but within ten feet of them. She hadn’t seen or heard him move.

“That’s close enough, brother. We have things to discuss and I want to keep this meeting civilized. Drop the blade, if you would please.”

The figure casually threw the knife away from him and rolled his shoulders once. Then, softly, almost without thought, spoke.

“You’ve established a détente on false terms, Seven. No reasonable discussion can be had while my wife lays injured at your feet.”

 _Charlie!_ Evey marveled at how calm and even his voice sounded. Had their positions been reversed she would have resembled a rabid dog. Seven swatted the air lightly at Charlie’s remark and seemed almost to chuckle.

“You are more sentimental than I would have thought, Five. Considering that you are the architect of Norsefire’s demise – a plan 20 years in the making - I would have expected a more… clinical view of personal ties from you. They are a means to an end, are they not?” Seven cast a glance downward at Evey. “We _are_ men after all – we have needs – but to _marry_ her? Well… I’m pleased to see that you have an ironic sense of humor as well.”

Charlie took three measured steps forward and then stopped, mirroring Seven’s stance.

“I don’t care for this conversation, _brother_. You are neither charismatic nor interesting enough to lull me into your intrigues. Let us skip ahead to the threats and ultimatums and be done with this.”

Evey noted that Charlie still had his gun holstered to his hip. She tried to remember where her gun was and then realized that Seven must have knocked it from her hand when he hit her. The foot walk was several feet above them now and she imagined that her Desert Eagle was still up there somewhere. She shifted on the floor and an electric shock of pain sliced down her back. She hissed loudly and cradled her arm to her body. Somewhere between the foot walk and the warehouse floor, she must have popped her injured shoulder out again. _Bloody great_ she thought as she reassessed the situation.

“Stop that!” Seven barked suddenly and jabbed her in the small of her back with his boot. “Useless breeder – I could have taken you down blindfolded!”

Charlie launched towards Seven covering the distance between them with incredible speed. Evey rolled out of the way suppressing a moan of pain as her injured shoulder crunched into the concrete floor. Seven laughed aloud – a reaction that shocked Evey – feinted Charlie’s lightening pass, scooped his gun from its holster and pounced onto Evey. The whole thing happened so quickly that it left Evey reeling, now with Charlie’s gun jammed into her ribs and Seven’s cool laughter ringing in her ears. Charlie froze in mid crouch and waited. His breathing had accelerated and his only movement was the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

“Brother! So quick!” Seven laughed loudly and needled Evey with the gun barrel. “And yet still not fast enough to catch me. You WILL listen to my proposal or I will end your family here and now with a single bullet. Understand?”

A cold sweat broke out over Evey that had nothing to do with the gun pressed into her side. Her stomach lurched into her throat and she swallowed hard against the bile rising in her. _How could he possibly know?!?_ she thought frantically. With cold detachment the realization that Seven had the upper hand – had _always_ had the upper hand – settled onto her. They had walked into a trap all right, except only one of them had been aware of the true risk involved.

“Evey and I are prepared to die to protect Clare, and she is well guarded. Your threat is mere posturing.” Charlie growled.

“A brave sentiment considering that I’m holding your plaything at gunpoint.” Seven’s tone was a mixture of mirth and disgust. “But I wasn’t speaking of Clare…”

Charlie looked puzzled. Seven breathed in and out loudly through his teeth, and then looked down at Evey.

“Oh, how wonderful! _He doesn’t know!_ How did you manage that, little breeder?” Seven’s laughter made her go cold all over. Evey closed her eyes and waited. “You’ve just become more valuable to me.”

Seven looked back at Charlie and smiled brilliantly as he patted Evey’s torso with the gun barrel.

“It is my pleasure to inform you that this _thing_ is with child again. Way to go, Five! You’re a stud!”

Seven cackled above Evey as she opened her eyes and looked at Charlie. Her vision, now adjusted to the gloom, caught a fleeting look of devastation before his mask of indifference settled across his features again. That instant told her more than any conversation could have: it asked _Why didn’t you tell me?_ while simultaneously realizing how fucked the situation had suddenly become. Evey’s heart sank.

“I’m sorry, Charlie.” She whispered.

Charlie rose to his feet slowly, his hands loose at his sides, his body bent with this new knowledge. Seven, ever wary, raised himself and Evey along with Charlie. He nestled the gun barrel into Evey’s abdomen. It seemed to Evey that Seven might have been holding his breath. _Clearly, Charlie’s unpredictability gives Seven pause as well_ thought Evey ruefully. _Good._

“Five, listen to me.” Seven cooed, “The fate of this child, this woman is irrelevant. They are part of the old guard, the passing world, flawed humanity.”

Seven’s voice took on the anticipation of a minister delivering his most practiced sermon to his flock. He emphasized his words with the tip of the Desert Eagle.

“We, you and I, are the next step – an advancement in human evolution. Yes, our superiority was engineered by man, but what we do with it will shape the future of humanity as only a god could! You will have more children – thousands! – developed directly from the genetic prototype that you house within you! You could even have some the ‘old fashioned’ way – god knows it’s more fun – though combining your genetic template with embryos in utero is probably more efficient.”

Seven snickered but Charlie remained unmoved. Evey searched his gaze for any hint of what he was thinking but saw only blankness. It scared her more than if had suddenly snapped or started speaking in tongues. Evey tried to mentally pull on the invisible bond that joined them hoping that she could wordlessly give him strength in some small way. She wanted to wrestle the gun from Seven’s grasp but with her dislocated shoulder she would need Charlie’s back up. Right now, she wasn’t sure that she’d get it.

“A new world of stronger, faster, smarter men starts with us, Five. Dr. Susan gave us a gift and it’s our duty to make it a reality for all.” Seven paused for a moment. “I’m not the bad guy here, Five. All I want is a better tomorrow for everyone. Isn’t that worthy? Isn’t it as noble as your Fawkesian revolution?”

“Norsefire said the same thing and used the same methods…” Charlie spoke softly and in monotone as if his voice was being transmitted from a thousand miles away.

“Norsefire was weak. They became bogged down in appeasing the masses here and now in order to maintain power, when they should have kept their eyes on the future. Most of the current population aren’t strong enough to make it to the new tomorrow…”

Charlie looked up at that and tilted his head slightly.

“What Dr. Susan’s research proved conclusively is that few humans can withstand the conversion as we did.” Seven leaned forward with enthusiasm. “The development must occur during gestation, as it did for your daughter. Her condition is stable, is it not?”

Charlie nodded slowly.

“Suitable adult candidates will be selected and undergo the process that we did, but we must also create a new generation by injecting modified DNA strains into the unborn. Sure, the mothers may not survive the process, but then again, they are just carriers. Eventually, the new generation will develop and begin reproducing normally. When a solid, healthy base of altered adults are established, we can cleanse the population of the last remaining throwbacks. It will take several generations to complete the transformation, which is why a dominant and undisputed leadership must be created and maintained for the foreseeable future. And who better to lead the way than those who are also living models of the new society? We shall lead by example!”

Seven’s eyes danced with the fervor of his belief. _Jesus,_ Evey thought, _I thought that I would never see this insanity rise in England again, but here it is before me. And he has followers! Will we never be free of it?_

Evey heard shuffling and looked at Charlie who was holding his head in his hands as if it were a ticking bomb.

“Five?” Seven murmured, clearly not receiving the response that he was hoping for.

“I’m so tired…” Charlie mumbled to himself.

 _Oh no,_ thought Evey, _Another migraine? Another dip into insanity?_ Charlie stepped towards Seven, one hand outstretched and one still cradling his head. Evey coiled, preparing to react to whatever came next with what little strength remained in her.

“Stop!” Seven ordered as he shoved the gun barrel into Evey’s stomach.

Charlie stopped, looked at Evey and then back at Seven.

“Shoot her.” He said evenly.

“What?” Seven asked, his grip on Evey loosening marginally.

“Shoot her.” Charlie said again. “I’m tired of the burdens that I have taken on in an effort to reclaim my humanity. I am not a man and can no longer manage to pretend that I am. All of my attempts to deny this have only led to pain and heartbreak. I want to be done with it now.” Charlie turned towards Evey. “It was never going to work – I should’ve seen that from the beginning.”

Charlie’s shoulders slumped.

“Just make it quick, as a favor to me. She doesn’t deserve to suffer.” He said to Seven.

Evey gasped as Seven pointed the gun barrel at her temple and tightened his grip on her chin. Her shoulder sang out an exquisite note of pain but she felt nothing, as her eyes remained locked on Charlie’s sunken silhouette. Seven shuffled behind her.

“Any last words?” He asked Charlie, not her.

“Nothing needs to be said.” Charlie whispered and, at that exact moment, Evey felt the invisible band between them give a sharp, powerful yank in his direction.

What happened next, happened quickly.

Evey leapt straight upward and rammed the top of her skull into Seven’s chin, making her see stars once again. The crunch of bone coincided with the cry of surprise and pain as Seven’s jaw cracked and his grip on her loosened. At the same instant, Charlie flew at Seven wrestling the gun away from Evey’s head with one hand and yanking her clear of them with the other. Evey screamed as Charlie pulled her free by her injured shoulder. She felt muscle rip and stretch into unnatural positions and fought to remain on her feet. Charlie hesitated at her cry and Seven, eyes blurry with tears of pain, twisted his gun hand free of Charlie’s grasp and arced it around to fire.

Evey’s vision narrowed. Without sizing up the distance or even being aware of making the decision, she found herself suddenly in front of Charlie as Seven fired. Something akin to a powerful gut punch knocked her back into Charlie but she surged forward almost instantly and grabbed the Desert Eagle by the top of the barrel. With a strangled cry that was part rage and part pain as the heat from the fired barrel burned into her palm, she ripped the gun free from Seven.

Charlie deeked around her and landed a punch that officially shattered the jaw that Evey had fractured. Seven moaned and reeled backward still keeping to his feet. Evey slid to the floor with a sudden gust of relief. The pain in her gut and in her hand made her shoulder feel almost blissful. She looked down and watched in distant fascination as skin peeled away from her palm with the gun barrel as she removed it with her left hand. _Damn, that’s not good_ , she thought lightly. Then she looked past her hand.

A large hole ripped through her clothes in her upper left abdomen. A steady stream of red-black blood ran down her body and was quickly pooling around her. She breathed in once, and then as if her body had finally remembered to react, pain shot through her like white-hot metal. The sensation was unlike anything that she had felt before and stole her breath away instantly. _Shitshitshit, this is bad_.

She looked around and saw Charlie and Seven locked together as they stumbled towards the desk and the windows beyond it. Seven was ceding ground but was by no means beaten. Charlie advanced mercilessly but seemed detached from his surroundings; all he could see was Seven. Evey shifted to her side and hissed as the wound’s pain sent her crashing onto the concrete floor. Nausea limped upward and her head spun and, for an instant, she wondered if the baby would be all right. _Worry for yourself_ her sarcastic friend mused. _You are losing a ton of blood. If you pass out, you’re pretty much done for._

“Thanks for the update. Helpful.” She murmured to herself.

She assessed quickly. No cell phone on her. In an abandoned warehouse in a deserted part of town in the dead of night. No one knows their location. Critically wounded. Charlie is distracted by a madman. _Charlie!_

Evey looked towards the windows where Charlie and Seven continued to go at each other. Each blocked, hit and feinted with even skill, and Evey noticed that Charlie was protecting his left side indicating that Seven had landed more than one successful blow. Evey’s head spun again and she laid it against the coolness of the warehouse floor to steady her. Her hands and feet had already gone numb and she was alternating between the shivering of shock and the peaceful bliss of temporary unconsciousness. She closed her eyes for a moment and suddenly things felt all right. Charlie and Seven continued to grunt and shuffle at a distance but it almost seemed like a dance routine to her. Charlie would be fine for a few minutes more…

_**MOMMY, WAKE UP!** _

Evey’s eyes flew open. Seven and Charlie were both bleeding now. How long had she been out?

_**MOMMY, HELP DADDY!** _

The pain in her stomach had diminished but she was cold all over now. Her teeth chattered and her hands felt like lead weights. She didn’t have the strength to raise her head so she just lay there and watched the men fight. _They’re too well matched. They’ll kill each other._

Not taking her eyes off the combat, she groped around her for the gun. When her hand found the gun hilt she dragged it up to her face. Her hands came back slicked in blood. _The pool must almost surround me by now_. Wrapping her fingers around the gun, her right hand spasmed in pain where her skin had been torn away. _Damn. Gotta use my left. No pressure. None at all._

Slowly, Evey rotated her left shoulder in front of her and gripped the blood-soaked gun in her left hand. She lined up her shot down the gun’s sites and blinked repeatedly as the warring men blurred from two figures, to four, and back to two again. _No pressure here._ The men jockeyed for position, their movements erratic from exhaustion, injury and surprise. Evey followed Seven, tried to anticipate his next move and have the gun there before he arrived. Her vision narrowed again, but this time she was sure that it was due to imminent unconsciousness – she only had a few seconds.

Charlie and Seven were steps away from the floor-to-ceiling industrial windows now. One or both of them were going to end up going through them. Evey bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and gave herself a last little spurt of adrenalin.

She blinked.

Seven pushed Charlie through the window.

Evey shot.

Charlie pulled Seven with him as he fell to the street below.

The Desert Eagle fell from Evey’s shaking hand and clattered away on the concrete floor. No one heard the shot. No one was coming to save them. Her shot had been a Hail Mary and her vision was so bad that she had no clue if she had hit anything at all. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered as she exhaled and gave one last tug on the invisible cord that surrounded her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is taken from "Hallelujah" by Leonard Cohen.


	34. Epilogue

“Mom! Mommy!”

“What is it, Clare?” Evey asked as she strolled out of the kitchen into the yard beyond.

A dark object flashed through the air above her and without thinking she moved to catch it. As her vision cleared and her heart started to beat once again, she discovered a small dark-haired boy in her arms.

“Max! What were you doing on the roof?!”

The boy’s amber-golden eyes crinkled as he laughed and wriggled in her grasp. He was in need of a haircut; the brown-black fringe of his brow fell over his dark eyelashes. More than once she wondered if his father had looked like this as a child – all storm clouds, snow and brilliant winter sunlight. If Evey hadn’t been furious with him, she would have marveled at how beautiful he was.

“Maxwell Charles Hammond, what were you doing on the roof?” Despite Evey’s anger the boy continued squirming like a puppy.

“He was trying to fly.” Clare ran up to Evey’s side, worry making her dark brown eyes wider. “He said that it was his ‘power’. I tried to stop him, Mom…”

Evey shut her eyes and sighed furiously.

“How many times have I told you kids that you do NOT have superpowers!”

Clare gave Evey a look of mild disbelief while Max managed to free himself from his mother’s grasp and rolled his eyes in sympathy with his sister’s unspoken sentiment.

“Oh, yeah – they’re ‘gifts’… sorry.” Max used his fingers to carve air quotes around the word that he obviously disfavored. 

Wow, pretty sarcastic for a seven year old, Evey almost said aloud. _I wonder where he got THAT from, hmmmm?_ Okay, touché, she conceded and then looked over at her daughter who was suppressing a giggle at Evey’s interior monologue.

 _What did I tell you about eavesdropping, Clare?_ Evey thought loudly.

“Sorry, Mom.” Clare’s eyes shot guiltily to her shoes. Evey turned her focus back to her son.

“What were you _thinking_?! You could have seriously hurt yourself, Max!”

“C’mon, Mom – I’m almost 7 and three quarters and I don’t have a power yet! You’re fast and strong, Clare-bear can hear people…” he pointed towards his older sister, “I wanna fly! Like Daddy did back in London in the olden days!”

Her son’s amber eyes lit up and flashed as he spun around on his toes until he made himself tipsy and fell over into the grass. “Ouch, wow…” he said as he landed in a heap, but the light in his eyes remained, and for a moment, they almost seemed iridescent gold as his father’s had been silver. Evey sighed. He was such an inexhaustible, undefeated little soul. He appeared ordinary in every way – which secretly brought her an immense amount of peace – but he desperately wanted to be like the other members of his extraordinary family. It broke her heart a little bit.

“Max,” she knelt down in the grass beside him, “This isn’t something that you can choose or force. You’ve gotta be patient, Tiger – if you’ve got a special gift like Clare does, it’ll show up in time.” His eyes began to dim a little bit and he looked away from her and started aimlessly ripping up handfuls of grass instead.

“Until then, I can’t have you leaping off roofs or throwing yourself into traffic. It’s very hard on your old Mum.” She placed her hand over her heart and bent low to catch the gaze that he was hiding from her. “What good would it do you to find out that you have an awesome gift if you are in a head-to-toe body cast, right?”

“Yeah, Maxy, that would suck.” Clare added. Bless her, thought Evey, she just wanted her brother to be happy too and she had taken on the management of his recklessness as one of her sisterly duties from the time he could walk. It was a tough gig for a nine year old.

Max sniffed loudly and continued playing with the shredded grass in his fingers.  
“Dad woulda let me try it…” he pouted.

“Your father always had a healthy respect for the laws of physics. He never thought he could fly and would tell you the same thing if he saw you climbing up the side of the house.” Perhaps we should cut back on the V adventures bedtime stories, she thought. Perhaps we are starting to sound a bit like superheroes…

Evey folded her son into her arms and kissed the top of his head lightly. He melted into her chest as if he was trying merge back into her body, but he still averted his eyes from her. _Proud but fragile. So much like Charlie…_ She rubbed his back soothingly and then lifted his chin so that he could no longer look away from her.

“No more roof diving. No more attempts to jumpstart a ‘superpower’. Trust me, little man, you are something special but you’re just a late bloomer, that’s all.” She nuzzled his cheek and whispered in his ear, “So was your father, you know.”

When she leaned away from him she saw that a new sparkle had lit Max’s eyes and his bow lips had formed an awestruck ‘o’. She smiled because his enthusiasm was infectious and she was pleased to have grounded him but not stomped out his spirit at the same time.

“So, do you promise me? No more dangerous stunts?”

“I promise, Mommy!” he boomed as he wriggled free of her and threw some grass clippings into the air in celebration of his newfound hope.

 _Great. Another crisis averted. What’s next on the agenda today? Shall we go back inside and split the atom?_ , Evey thought with relief and then turned towards her daughter has she heard muffled giggling.

“Clare…” she warned.

 _Sorry, Mommy,_ she sent to Evey wordlessly, _You talk so loudly sometimes!_ More giggling erupted from both inside Evey’s head and from Clare. Clare’s gift was surprisingly strong and though the girl was naturally wary and good at keeping secrets, she still had work to do in order to control her telepathy. If she didn’t, it would get her into no end of trouble, of that Evey was certain. But on the whole, Evey worried less about Clare than she did about Max. Should Max grow into a gift of his own, she wasn’t sure that he would make many attempts to hide it as Clare did. Though just a boy, he seemed inordinately proud of his strange heritage and felt that the world would just have to adjust in acceptance of him. Though Charlie and V had a healthy dose of this attitude as well, they both knew the value of secrecy. Evey worried at her son’s dangerous attitude towards the world in general; knowing what she knew of people, she feared for him. But then again, she was a mother – she was always worried - and he was only seven and three quarters.

“All right, you little demons,” she boomed dramatically as she rose to her feet, “Be gone! Mrs. Kerr is expecting you for dinner – remember to wash your hands before supper and help with the cleaning up afterwards.”

“Yay, Mrs. Kerr!” Max chorused as he ran dizzying circles around his mother.

Evey caught Max by the arm and stilled him. The boy loved going to the Kerrs because they stuffed him full of candy and had a small terrier that followed him around like a shadow. The old couple lived two fields across from them and loved the children from the moment that they found them stealing fruit from their orchard two years before. Now, the children spent one night every few weeks with them and gave Evey a break from the constant 3-ring circus that was her home.

“Eat whatever Mrs. Kerr puts in front of you. No complaints, okay?”

“I heard that she’s made some squash soup.” Clare added.

“Ugh! Squash?!” Max whined and fell over onto his back in the grass dramatically. “I HATE squash!”

“Go on, get along with you…” Evey reached down, plopped him back on his feet again and gave him a gentle push towards his sister.

Clare took Max’s hand in hers. “C’mon, maybe there’ll be time to dig around in Mr. Kerr’s shed before supper.”

“Yeah!” Max yelled as the two of them bounced and bobbled their way across the fields to the neighbors.

Evey watched them go in silence until they passed the fence line and disappeared into the trees at the edge of the Kerr’s land. With a small sigh, she turned away from the house and walked towards the far end of the property. Here, the bumpy, tufted field grass gave way to outcroppings of rock and then, finally, a heart-stopping plummet to the jagged rocks below and the ceaseless pounding of the Atlantic Ocean. Standing here, staring out into the turbulent grey of the distance, she felt as if she stood at the edge of the world. Whatever lay beyond the ocean had yet to be created. She enjoyed the roar of a power that was timeless and dwarfed anything that man had yet created. She enjoyed the feeling of insignificance that her problems took on when she stood on the edge of this precipice.

Spring had arrived but winter was clinging to it with icy fingers, and she shivered in the breeze from the ocean. Though she had moved south and given Briar House to Sera and Dominic for their ever-expanding family, it was still England and it could get bloody cold. She considered going back to the house for a coat but decided to stand fast against the cold: her resistance against the inevitable. 

She was tired – much more tired than she was used to. And the headaches had started again. Charlie’s legacy – the one that had allowed her to cheat death more than once – was exacting its toll now. Just as her progression to his state of advanced kinesthesia was rapid, so, apparently, was her decline. What had taken Charlie decades had only taken her a few years. She tried not to worry for her children, tried not to imagine leaving them before they were ready for the world, but a cold chill that had nothing to do with the weather blew through her now pricking her mind with maddening ‘what-ifs’. She shivered again and rubbed her hands along her arms, willing her mind to still and just _be_ in the moment.

Warmth trailed up her back suddenly and she smiled and closed her eyes to enjoy it fully. She stretched her body and felt various things pop and groan, but none of it took away from the comfort of the moment. The warmth suddenly enveloped her in the form of a thick blanket over her shoulders clasped closed by two large, scarred hands.

“You shouldn’t be out here without a coat. Not in your condition.” The voice was half whisper, half rumble.

Evey turned in the embrace and huddled into the hollow between his chin and chest. “Been through it twice already,” she mumbled as she inhaled him and ran her hands along his sides, pulling him closer, “I know how to take care of myself.”

She felt the cool zip of metal on her cheek as her stroked her face and raised it to his own. “But it’s not just you, is it?” His other hand dipped into the darkness of the blanket and settled along her abdomen. “It’s the next scion of the empire too…”

Evey smiled at his foolishness and arched her toes so that she could kiss him. The kiss lingered, full of sweetness and memory. It’s strange how relationships change with time, Evey thought. Once we were all fire and urgency, and now all we want is more time.

He released her and stared, stroking her cheek absently. Thoughts flashed across his strange, silver eyes but he gave voice to none of them. Evey wondered if he worried about running out of time the way she did. After all, his true age remained a mystery, and despite the persistence of headaches and his need to take naps in the afternoons now, he never seemed to age. Sometimes she had the insane belief that he would just continue on _forever_.

“Why do you come here?” He asked quietly.

She shook her head once and turned away from him, still staying close to his body but avoiding his stare.

“I’m wearing out, Charlie. I’m running down, and now I’m pregnant… I didn’t even think that it was possible for us anymore…”

“I as well. I’m very pleased.” Evey didn’t have to look at him to know that he had a mischievous smile on his face. She gave him a little jab in the stomach that said, _settle down, now_.

“I’m worried that I won’t have enough time to teach this one everything she’ll need to know.” She said quietly while watching the ocean.

“She?”

“I’m guessing.”

“Hmm.” Charlie’s voice rumbled through his chest and reverberated into her. It was oddly warm and soothing. So much about him calmed her and she found that fact fitting considering that he had said the same thing about her on more than one occasion. It was obvious that they fit together and would probably have continued on miserably without one another. “Well, I’m not concerned about that.”

“You’re not? Why?”

“Because we’ve made it this far and we probably shouldn’t have in the first place.”

Evey leaned away from him and gave him a pointed ‘explain that’ look.

“How many times should we have died over the years? How many instances have we defied the odds? How many cruel twists have we spat in the face of in order to get to this moment? And you are worried about – what? – mortality?” His non-existent eyebrows shot upward in disbelief and his mouth curled into the crooked smile she was helpless to resist. “Surely, if we weren’t meant to endure, it would’ve ended with Susan, or Sidney, or even Seven.”

“You’ve got to admit, Seven came close.” Evey shivered from the memory of bleeding out, of watching Charlie fall, of shooting blindly. Charlie survived, Seven did not. She hung on but if Sera hadn’t sent Dominic after them that night, she wouldn’t have made it. Was that fate or just dumb luck?

“Everything ends, Evey, even this.” His fingers outlined the invisible bond that held them close. “But our lives have been rearranged by fate in just such a way as to bring us here. I find it difficult to believe that it went to all that trouble just to drop us on our asses now.”

Evey suppressed a giggle; he was hilarious when he attempted to be vulgar. Her pessimistic mindset lightened slightly. He did have a point, and try as she might, she didn’t have a lot of say in the matter. It _was_ a minor miracle to be expecting one last time, and her children were the great and secret blessings of her life. She blushed deeply as she thought _well, it’s not THAT unexpected that you’re pregnant – you two practice. A lot._

“What are you thinking about? You’ve turned as red as a tomato…”

She leaned forward and swept his face down to her with her hand to kiss him deeply. When she released him, he looked a little confused but very eager to be further flummoxed by her.

“I’m thinking that the kids at the Kerrs for the evening and I’m thinking that I’m in need of a bath. I was wondering if you would care to join me, Mr. Tenley?”

Charlie’s eyes flashed and then he backed away and bowed deeply at the waist. With a graceful flourish of his hands he took hers and drew them to his lips.

“It would be my honor to escort m’lady to her sale de bain. But no funny business, I insist.” His face became to picture of solemn fortitude. “Only healthy, acceptable lathering and rubbing – I’m a married man and expecting a child after all…”

“But, I shall have to be accompanied to my bedchamber as well, Mr. Tenley. I cannot be expected to traverse the dark hallways at night alone…” Evey playfully pouted.

“Very well, honor demands that I see you safely tucked in as well, I suppose.” He huffed.

“And it might be cold in my bed. I shall require you to warm it for me.”

Charlie paused for a moment and stared at her intently. It almost felt like he was undressing her on the spot and Evey blushed again and smiled.

“Fine!” Charlie said with mock irritation. “Two orgasms, that’s all you’re getting. I have to draw the line somewhere…” He wagged his finger at her sternly.

“Yippee!” Evey raised her arms out of the blanket and pumped the air in victory. She ran ahead of him and then suddenly turned and blew him a kiss, no longer feeling her age. “A more honorable man than you could not be imagined.”

“We’ll see…” he growled as he caught up with her and swept her up into his grasp, heading for home.

Evey swung her dangling legs lazily as she pecked and nuzzled his neck. His growling grew into a satisfied purr as she felt him pick up speed.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you…” she murmured against his throat, “Your son jumped off the roof today.”

“Did he?” Charlie laughed. “How did he do?”

Evey rolled her eyes and thumped her fist into his chest as he continued to laugh. “Christ, you’re impossible, Charlie!”


End file.
